Condemned
by ColoradoMFC
Summary: This is my answer to Elephant's Memory. It's always bothered me that Reid was seemingly left to handle his drug addiction alone, and though this episode touches base, it doesn't do he or the BAU team justice.
1. Chapter 1

It was over. Finally, he could relax and maybe let go of the frustration he had been fighting for so long. Handing the unsub over to the local police, he raised his head to find Derek Morgan looking at him with the odd mix of an impressed grin, and that eye brow raised in a warning: "If you ever pull that crap again, I will personally kick your butt all the way back to DC!" With his eyebrows to do the work, Derek rarely needed to raise his voice.

That look suddenly reminded Dr. Spencer Reid that their boss was still in the room. He slowly turned away from Morgan to find Agent Hotchner half-way across the police station shooting him a glare that would do any Catholic school nun proud. Reid froze. He knew there was nothing he could do now to stop what was coming, so he simply waited for Hotch to make the next move. To his surprise his boss turned on his heals and, without a second look back, marched out the front door.

Reid's jaw dropped. He had no idea what to do next. Behind him, he heard Morgan quietly chuckle. This wasn't an attempt to make fun of Reid, but a small effort at lightening the mood. Both men knew Reid was about to catch an excessive amount of hell, and Morgan didn't want to make it worse for the young agent he often thought of as a little brother. But as much as his natural inclination was to protect Reid, Morgan also knew he deserved every bit of what was coming. In the meantime he could at least usher the kid to the vehicle and offer him whatever sense of protection Reid could glean from that.

Sitting alone behind the wheel of the waiting SUV, Agent Hotchner admitted to himself he was tired and angry. As he waited for his team to return to the vehicle, Hotch tried to calm himself. He knew he was in no state to dole out constructive criticism or to decide on appropriate discipline. He had just watched one of his trusted agents knowingly lie to his superiors, put himself in a potentially dangerous situation with no backup, body armor or even a sidearm. On top of all this, over the last few days, there were several childish temper tantrums executed in public he'd had to diffuse. He knew his youngest agent was battling some serious demons, and he wanted to give him as much latitude as he needed, but Hotch was beginning to wonder if this was really the best course of action. Reid was pushing the boundaries too far now.

"We have a problem." Agent David Rossi settled himself in the front passenger's seat. "Reid's actions are becoming too reckless to ignore."

Pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply, Hotch merely nodded his head. Rossi couldn't help but be glad he was no longer the lead on this team. Before he could say more, Agents Emily Prentice and Jennifer "JJ" Jareau opened the back door and quietly slid into the far back seat, leaving the middle seats available for the last two member of the team.

Reid continued to stand in the center of the police station, mouth agape, unable to decide what to do next. With a gentle pat on the young agent's shoulder, Morgan passed Reid with a confident, "come on, kid", and headed for the door.

Used to being guided by the older members of his team, Reid's feet naturally followed the direction, and he soon found himself outside the police station headed for the waiting SUV.

Reaching the vehicle, Morgan held the door waiting for Reid to board. Sheepishly, Reid bent his long frame, stepped into the tense quiet, and slipped into the seat directly behind Hotch. If he had to be in this enclosed space with his angry boss, this was certainly the safest spot.

The drive back to the hotel was hard for Reid. He tried to make himself as small as possible while staring out the side window at the passing buildings of the small Texas town. Hotch was going to kill him, and it was a bad sign that he hadn't done so already. J.J., Emily and Morgan did their best to chat nonchalantly about lighter things, while Hotch drove without talking, alternately fuming and breathing deeply. Rossi was the only person who seemed remotely relaxed.

At the hotel Hotch parked near the front door, "alright everyone, meet back here in 20 minutes". Morgan and Rossi opened their doors and climbed out. Reid tried to scramble out as quickly as possible, but just as his feet reached the door, Hotch, who hadn't moved, quietly said, "A minute, Reid?" It wasn't a request. Reid's mouth went dry, but he returned to his seat so the ladies in the back seat could exit. They both gave him looks of pity and J.J. patted his shoulder for support, but Reid barely noticed. When everyone was out of earshot, Hotch, still looking directly out the front window, quietly began, "You're in a lot of trouble."

Reid, looking at his hands in his lap, wanted to cry. He didn't know what had come over him, or why he'd been acting so petulantly the last few days. One thing was clear though; he had greatly disappointed his boss. He would give anything to take back the last couple of days and do them over. In answer to Hotch he could only nod his head, keeping his eyes down.

Hotch still didn't trust that he was calm enough to discuss this with the young man, so he forced his voice to stay quiet and low which always had the effect of making him sound far more formal than normal, "When we get back to the jet, you are to find a seat alone where we can talk. I expect you to have a good answer for what you were thinking when you chose to endanger your life." With this he stepped out of the SUV with every intention of walking away, but when he turned to close the door, he glanced at the repentant-looking man sitting alone in the back seat. He looked so young and fragile, his long hair falling around his bowed head. Reid looked up shyly when he realized Hotch was still standing there. Hotch saw his brown eyes softly pleading with him to accept his apology. Unfortunately, the kid had pushed it too far this time. Hotch gave an almost imperceptible nod, gently closed the door, and walked into the hotel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for reading ch. 1 (if you haven't yet, please do). This is my first ever FanFic, and in retrospect I've realized I probably should have stated a few things first. I missed that opportunity, so I'm doing it now. This is a total rip off of Elephant's Memory (3X16), but to my mind there were a great many issues left unattended. If you haven't seen that episode, or don't remember it, I'm afraid this bit of writing won't make much sense to you. It is rated M only because after about chapter 3, this will start delving into a more, shall we say, hands-on disciplinarian role for Hotch? The first three chapters will be fairly vanilla. I'm sorry if what I do afterward offends anyone, but consider yourselves forewarned. Thank you for reading, and please do review. I love to hear from you.**

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I eat Criminal Minds for breakfast, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**And now, chapter 2 . . .**

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Reid was alone and feeling the isolation like he had never felt it before. He desperately wanted to shoot up right now. Quickly, he went through his options of where to find a vile of dilaudid in this small town. Drugs and alcohol usually run rampant with kids in these towns, but he wasn't sure if his drug of choice would be so easily accessible. Sighing, he stepped out of the SUV and headed toward his room. He didn't have much to pack, so he unceremoniously threw what little he had into his bag, took a last look around, decided he was ready to go and returned to the lobby.

He had managed this in less than five minutes, and no one else from the team had returned yet, so he wandered outside still thinking about how badly he wanted to get his hands on some dilaudid.

The evening was comfortably warm, and he could hear a baseball game nearby. The crack of the bat, the cheering crowds, indicated a possible large gathering of teenagers. Reid quickly calculated how long it would take him to get there, find a possible source, make his purchase and return to the hotel in the eight minutes remaining before everyone was due back. Fully feeling his craving, Reid's genius mind tried to convince him this was possible. He took two confident steps in the direction of the noise, and faltered. Behind him, he heard the hotel door open, then the unmistakable sound of Rossi clearing his throat. Reid's confidence in his plan shattered as he guiltily buried his hands in his pockets, and turned to face the older agent.

Rossi's first words surprised the young man, "I wanted to apologize, Dr. Reid."

Reid's confusion played across his face. He was certain Rossi was planning to chew him out too. An apology was the last thing Reid expected, and he had no idea what Rossi was apologizing for. He gave the senior agent a befuddled look.

Rossi watch Reid's confusion, but also detected a hint of guilt. He wondered what thoughts he had interrupted in coming outside. "Back in DC, when you came in late saying you were in the middle of watching a movie, I don't know what you were really doing, but it was none of my business. I shouldn't have pushed you for answers. I'm sorry. I suppose it's the profiler in me", he gave a small, sincere smile.

Reid returned the gesture, "Thank you." He didn't know what else to say, and he certainly didn't feel like explaining anything to this man he had only known a few months. He dug his hands further into his pockets and felt the cool metal disk he had been given just before starting this case. At the time, Reid hadn't understood why the man had loaned him his one-year medallion. As his fingers caressed the edge of the heavy coin, he thought he might be starting to understand.

There must have been a good play because the crowd at the baseball field erupted. Reid saw Rossi's keen eyes glace in that direction and his eyes tighten. He turned his attention back to Reid and saw the hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression return to the young man's face. All of Rossi's instincts told him to dig further, but hadn't he just apologized for exactly that reason? It was really none of his business, but this kid was clearly in some kind of distress. He offered the best thing he could think of, "You know, if you want to talk about anything . . .". Rossi cut off when he saw Reid tense up.

"Ummm, yeah. Thanks. But I, Uhhh." He was saved from this awkward moment when the rest of the team exited the hotel and headed for the SUV. He also didn't miss the sharp look Hotch shot him on the way. Feeling intensely deflated knowing he wouldn't soon be seeing any of the drug he was craving, he hung his head and shuffled to the vehicle. The team took their original seats. With the exception of Reid, everyone seemed a bit more relaxed knowing they were headed home.

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Finally, on the jet and in the air, the team settled down for the flight. Sitting side-by-side Rossi and Prentice buried themselves in their latest novels. Across from them J.J. did her best to curl up in a seat for a nap, and Morgan pretended to sleep though he was actually losing himself in his music. Hotch sat beside them, finally feeling like he could see the situation clearer. He glanced up at the seat in the back of the jet containing his errant young agent, the top of his head just visible. Reid was sitting facing away from the team, not moving. He hadn't even poured himself a cup of coffee for the flight. He just sat there.

Hotch tried to decide what to say to the young man he had worked with for over nine years. Could it have really been that long? Why did this kid seem younger to him now than he had back then? He had been through so much over the years. Deep down Hotch knew the kid probably needed a father more than a friend or boss right now, but on this jet, he was still the boss. He hated this part of the job. In the end he decided to just start talking and trust he would say the right things. Rising from his seat, he determinedly walked to the back of the jet and took the seat facing Reid.

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Reid was nervous, but he knew he couldn't stop what was coming. He waited passively for his boss to appear. His assignment had been to think about why he'd chosen to react the way he had, but he didn't need to think about that. He knew why he'd done what he'd done. Reid wished, however, that he'd put more trust in his colleagues instead of pushing them away. He knew they would be there for him if he ever needed them. How had he forgotten that?


	3. Chapter 3

**I've been looking forward to presenting this chapter for a very long time as this is truly the impetus for the entire story. Please keep in mind this is only **_**my**_** interpretation of the events, and that everyone reads the same situations differently. Also, I want to extend a heartfelt mea culpa to Mr. Bernero for any offence these prose may present. Certainly, none are intended.**

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I drive Criminal Minds to work in the morning, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**And without further ado, chapter 3 . . . **

XOXOXOXOXOXO

As Hotch took his seat in front of Reid, the younger man felt sick. He gulped hoping he wouldn't throw-up. He really hated how badly he'd let everyone down.

Though his voice was calm, Hotch's stern eyes gave the young man no leeway, "You knowingly jeopardized your life and the lives of others."

What could he say to that? Leave it to Hotch to state the pure and simple truth. Reid didn't trust his voice not to crack, so he simply nodded his head and looked as contrite as he could.

"I should fire you." This startled the young agent into at least making eye contact. Hotch again saw the pleading, apologetic eyes, but he still wasn't sure the kid was getting it. "You're the smartest kid in the room, but you're not the only one in that room. You pull something like this again, you will be. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. It won't happen again." Though Reid was feeling thoroughly chastised, if this was the worst he was going to get from his boss, he was thankful. He was even more grateful that he hadn't lost his job, "Thank you."

But Hotch wasn't done yet. He had told the young agent to have a good answer to his question, "What were you thinking?"

Reid was prepared for this, "I was thinking that that would have been the second time a kid died in front of me." It seemed to Reid like a valid answer.

Hotch wasn't so sure, "You're keeping score. Just like Owen."

Reid was embarrassed to realize he hadn't thought his answer through well enough. He tried to cover this fact by making light with his response, "It was my turn to save one."

Hotch recognized this as dangerous thinking and wasn't about to let the young man lighten the mood just yet, "It doesn't work like that." He really needed to know that Reid was taking this seriously.

Maybe not, thought Reid, but, "It should." Though he had to admit to himself he didn't really feel that much better.

The kid was clearly hurting, and Hotch thought he had an idea why, "I know it's painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy."

Reid grimaced inside and wondered what life would be like if he didn't work with such talented profilers. Hotch, of course, made a direct hit on his principal worry, "What's that make me?"

The answer was simple, "Good at the job."

The depth of this gesture was not lost on Reid, and he struggled to contain his emotions. Hotch felt this conversation had gone as far as it should for the moment, and as he stood to leave the young man with his thoughts, he debated mentioning one last thing. He had recognized the combative behavior of the last few days from several months back. During the initial days when Reid was battling with his addiction to the insidious drugs he'd been introduced to by a deranged unsub, his behavior had been unpredictable and antagonistic. Hotch regretted that at the time he had not taken a more direct role in his young agent's fight. Instead, he had depended on Gideon to help the kid while he looked on only supporting from the periphery. With this in mind, he made his move, "I know it's none of my business, but when we land, I think you should go and a . . . catch the end of that movie" (Bernero, 2008).

Reid gave a slight, embarrassed nod. Of course Hotch knew where he had actually been. He always knew.

As Hotch walked away Reid once again pulled the meaningful coin from his pocket and considered what it all meant. When he needed help before, Gideon had been there to talk him through the endless nights of craving. Reid knew that without either Gideon's help or the drug, he would have been consumed by his own thoughts of guilt and pain. Now, his friend was gone and he was faced with the remorse of watching a child die in front of him. He had saved Owen from a similar fate, but it did not erase the pain of watching that child die. Nor did it stop him from fearing the next time he would have to witness a child suffer and die. Dilaudid would take these thoughts and feelings away, if only for a short time. But at what cost? Reid knew the statistics.

The man who had given him the coin was an FBI Director, superior even to Strauss, yet he clearly attended the Narcotics Anonymous meetings regularly. He had needed help overcoming his addictions at one time too. Reid missed Gideon more than ever right now. He had never had to outwardly admit to his friend what he needed; Gideon had simply known and taken matters into his own hands. Reid blushed a bit remembering how difficult he'd been, and how adroitly Gideon had managed his behavior. The young agent admitted to himself he didn't know how to ask for help. He had always been strong for everyone, never burdening anyone with his own problems. He was a genius after all. Shouldn't he be able to figure this one out for himself?

The longer the young man considered how badly he needed help, the deeper he spiraled into his anger and hurt. Certainly, Morgan was always willing to talk with him when he needed a sounding board, and Hotch had never turned him away, but neither man had ever gone out of their way to be there for him the way Gideon had been. How was he supposed to ask for help anyway? They wouldn't want to put themselves out for him. Why should they? He wasn't worth it. In fact Hotch had just said that if he ever got out of line like that again, he was going to be fired. Clearly, he was dispensable and therefore not worth the effort. The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. When tears threatened to spring forth, he became even angrier. He was weak. Why wouldn't he be expendable?

As the jet flew ever closer to D.C., Reid became more and more anxious. He just wanted to get off, run away and find a fix. Ten months was a long time to go without his dilaudid, and right now it was all he could think about. Just one more hit, and then he would give it up forever. Logically, Reid knew this was erroneous thought, but his cravings were seriously getting in the way of that. If he could just relax and forget all of the pain and suffering for a little while, he believed his thinking would then be clear enough to figure out how to beat this drug. His legs began to bounce and his fidgeting hands started to sweat, "Please land. Please land", he pleaded silently.

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**. . . and the angst begins . . .**

**Hope you enjoyed. Please let me know what you think.**

**References**

**Bernero, E. A. (Producer). (2008). **_**Criminal minds**_**. [Television series]. Glendale, CA: **

** ABC Studios in association with CBS Paramount.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is fairly Hotch-centric, with some Morgan thrown in for good luck. Hotch is about to deliberately change the entire dynamic between he and Reid, and that is not something with which he's comfortable. I needed to allow him time to work things out in his head before he could move forward with his plans.**

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I hang out at the water cooler with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**And now gentle readers, chapter 4 . . . **

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Hotch had chosen a seat that allowed him to covertly keep an eye on his youngest agent. He wasn't completely convinced that Reid was as calm as he'd pretended to be. He had been uncharacteristically querulous for the last few days. Hotch knew you didn't just give up a cantankerous mood like that without dealing with the root of the problem first. He also knew that Reid did not possess the skills to deal with many of the emotions he would normally hide beneath his intellect. Now, however, all of the emotions were welling to the surface, and no amount of intelligence was going to keep them down this time.

He wanted to be there for the young man, but over the years he had never extended himself beyond the role of "boss". Hotch didn't know how to become the kind of friend Gideon had been. He knew Reid had stayed with the older agent for several weeks while battling his addiction. Honestly, even at work Reid was rarely seen away from his side during that time. Gideon had counseled him and held his hand when he needed it, but he had also stepped into the disciplinarian role of father for this kid who had only distant memories of such a relationship. When he was a very young child Reid was forced into being the decision maker for himself and for the adults who surrounded him. His father had abandoned him. His mother treated him like an adult, with adult expectations and responsibilities. His teachers didn't know what to do with him, so he had been mostly left to his own devices. Gideon had known all this and had taken measures to relieve the kid of his adult responsibilities while he dealt with his addiction.

As Hotch pondered how to be of the most help to his struggling young agent, Morgan roused himself from his musical retreat. Moving only enough to open one eye, he spied his boss across the aisle deep in thought. He was staring at the back of the jet, frowning. Looking behind him, Morgan realized Hotch was concentrating on the back of Reid's head. He was aware that Hotch had spent a few minutes with his young coworker earlier, but had no idea how the confrontation had gone. By the concerned look on Hotch's face, he concluded there was still some unfinished business.

Morgan casually rose from his seat, placing his headphones in his vacated spot, and reseated himself directly across from Hotch. Both men watched the other waiting for someone to start. Morgan was first. "How'd it go?" he asked giving a slight backward nod in Reid's direction.

Hotch wasn't sure discussing this situation with Morgan was appropriate, but this was probably the only other person in the world who could do anything to help the kid. Certainly, J.J., Emily and even the tech Penelope Garcia cared about him, but Hotch intuitively understood that in this situation Reid would respond better to an alpha male taking control than he would to the compassionate approach the ladies of the team would offer. Rossi was still an option, and probably a more appropriate person for Hotch to ask for help, but he was still new to the team and earning their trust. Even if he thought Rossi could help with this, he wouldn't ask him to put himself in that situation. Hotch decided to allow Morgan to help him with this if he was willing, and answered, "I'm not sure."

Morgan's expressive eyebrows shot up at the distinctly un-Hotch-like response, "Did the kid give you trouble?"

Shaking his head, Hotch tried to clarify his misgivings, "No, not at all. He seemed to understand where he messed up, but that's the problem." Morgan leaned in signifying his interest, and Hotch continued, "He was too compliant. After the tension of the last few days, his mood seemed overly composed. I think he frightened himself facing down Owen like that, but I don't think it will last. The emotions that led him to such rash actions are still there, and they'll keep emerging in stronger and stronger ways until Reid deals with them."

Morgan understood. He relaxed back into his seat and simply asked, "How can I help?"

The problem Hotch now faced was that he was feeling remarkably uncomfortable thinking about stepping into the role he knew Reid needed. Gideon had done this so easily. And now, here was Morgan readily offering his help. How effortless it would be to hand this problem over to him. Hotch knew Morgan would take on this responsibility willingly. Certainly, he could cover the tough love part of this with ease; Hotch had seen him in action. But would he really be able to handle the continuous mood swings with care? Morgan, though understanding in the beginning, usually lost patients easily.

No, he would have to figure this part out for himself, and soon. As he watched Reid, he saw the young man, who had been extremely still throughout the flight, beginning to fidget, and what Hotch could see of his leg was bouncing uncontrollably. It occurred to Hotch that Morgan could still be of help. "I'd appreciate it if you would keep an eye on him. Just be there for him if he seems upset in any way."

Morgan felt a bit perturbed by this simple request, "I've always got his back, Hotch. You know that."

"I know you do, but he's going to need that support even more over the next few weeks." Hotch considered filling Morgan in on the details of his anticipated intervention, but decided that unless he absolutely needed to, he would protect Reid's privacy in this matter. Thankfully, Morgan seemed to accept this answer, for now.

Hotch glanced up in Reid's direction again and thought he was becoming even more agitated. His expression must have changed because Morgan sat up and looked behind him. When he turned back, his worried expression was a reflection of Hotch's own.

The pilot sent word they would be landing in about five minutes. As the team situated themselves in preparation for the decent, Hotch decided it would be unwise to allow the suffering young man to leave without talking with him first. The team was too alert now not to overhear any conversation they might have, and with Reid's agitation clearly rising, Hotch was afraid that conversation might be loud anyway. He decided to wait until they landed and waylay him until everyone had exited the jet. This wasn't going to be easy, but Hotch steeled himself for whatever was about to happen.

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**Thanks for reading. Sorry this one was so short. I promise the next will be more fulfilling. Please review, and if you happen to remember CM alluding to what kind of vehicle Morgan owns, please let me know. Otherwise, I'm making it up. **


	5. Chapter 5

**And now the fun begins . . . **

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I order a Venti iced coffee with soy milk from Starbucks with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

XOXOXOXOXOXO

As the jet touched down Reid breathed a sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was find his way downtown to the bar he knew would contain the drugs he so desperately wanted. He felt a deep sense of guilt knowing he was about to give into his cravings after so many months of sobriety, but he simply couldn't face this night alone without some help. Reid knew he needed to calm down before anyone on the team saw his anxiety. They would ask questions if they saw him in this state. As they taxied in, he focused on breathing deeply and calming his nerves.

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As the jet came to a stand-still the team sprang to life gathering their things and preparing to disembark. Hotch remained in his seat, waiting. Reid would have to pass him to exit. Morgan, standing over Hotch, gave his boss a questioning look. Hotch caught the look and returned it with a reassuring nod. He hoped he seemed more confident than he actually felt.

He kept one eye on Reid the entire time, trying to gage his emotional state. As the young man gathered his jacket and bag he seemed tense, but when he turned to face the team his aspect changed to one of casualness, the tension well hidden, but not entirely expunged.

As the team began to exit, Reid moved closer. Hotch noticed he was avoiding eye contact with everyone, but especially with him. Using his comparable height to gain the young agent's attention, Hotch stood directly in the lanky man's path. He was careful to keep his body language neutral. Reid looked up and Hotch saw a brief flash of uncharacteristic irritation in his eyes, but then it was gone. Hotch waited patiently for Reid to answer his unasked question.

Reid knew what his boss wanted to hear. He barely avoided rolling his eyes as he answered, "I'm going to an N.A. meeting right now. I'm not even going home first, but I have to go now if I'm going to get there on time."

Hotch realized it wasn't Reid lying to him, but the addiction that was, "Sounds like a good idea. Come on. I'll drop you off."

Reid hadn't prepared for this, "Uh, tha-that's okay. I'll find my way. Thanks."

"I insist. It's no bother." He reached up to put a supportive hand on Reid's shoulder, but was startled when the young man flinched away.

"I'll be fine, Hotch! I'm going directly there. You don't need to babysit me!" With this he shoved past his boss and nearly fell out of the door. Hotch let him go. He would have to find a different approach.

Reid shouldn't have been surprised to find Morgan waiting for him, but he was. He rolled his eyes, seeing his friend leaning casually against the wall inside the terminal. He tried ignoring Morgan and continued walking, though from past experience he didn't really expect this evasion technique to work. Morgan jogged to catch up with the young doctor, "Hey kid, hold up for a second." He clapped a hand on Reid's shoulder and very nearly spun him around in his tracks. "You mind telling me what that was about? I know you heard me calling you."

The irritation was getting harder for Reid to hide, and Morgan got a blast of it from the first glance, "I'm late, Morgan. I need to get out of here!"

Morgan gave him a concerned look, but this time Reid wasn't giving in. He was a man on a mission, and no one, not even the great Derek Morgan, was going to stop him.

But Morgan wasn't giving up the fight so easily either, "What's going on, Reid? What's this about?"

The use of his sir name coming from Morgan meant he was all business, and for Reid that signaled a strong likelihood of being blocked from his mission. He was really feeling his cravings now, so he decided the best way to get out of this was to play nice. "I'm sorry, man. It's just been a difficult couple of days for me. I guess I'm anxious to get home and decompress." He mentally crossed his fingers hoping this would be enough to convince his friend he was in no danger of self-destructing.

It wasn't, but Morgan didn't have any probable cause to hold him on either. He had to let Reid go and hope he did the right thing, "I know it has, kid. Just promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I promise." He smiled, not really making eye contact, "You can stop worrying about me now. Okay?"

Morgan had to let him go, but he didn't have to like it. He stepped aside and watched his friend quicken his pace toward the airport exit. Hotch approached Morgan with a questioning look, "Everything okay?"

Morgan shook his head, "Something's not right, Hotch, but I can't put my finger on it. He promised me he was heading straight home, but I don't know."

Hotch tensed at the change in Reid's story, "He told me he was headed for an N.A. meeting. He was telling us what he thought we wanted to hear." Both men took off at a run in the direction the young man had followed. Morgan quickly out-distanced Hotch, and when he reached Reid, who was just about to enter the taxi he had hailed, he had to take the situation under control himself. Making as little a scene as possible, Morgan threw and arm around Reid's shoulder, steered him away from the taxi, kicked the door shut, and declared to the driver, "Next time, pal."

Reid was incensed. He stopped in his tracks, and turned on his friend, "What are you doing, Morgan? That was my ride!"

Morgan wasn't mincing words now, "Ride to where, kid?"

Reid knew he was busted, but his drive for the drug made him try to push it further, "That's none of your business!" As his pitch rose, he heard his voice crack. Damn! Why did his vocal chords always deceive him like this? He'd gone through puberty years ago, but you'd never know it when he got upset.

"I'll tell you what. You give me the address of that N.A. meeting you told Hotch you were going to, and I'll drive you there myself, and buy you a coffee on the way."

Damn, again! Of course the two men had talked. Why hadn't he kept his stories consistent? First rule of deception: 'keep it simple.' And of course he didn't have an actual address at hand. He could remember the address of the meeting he'd attended a few days ago, but were they having a meeting right now? The odds were not in his favor.

Morgan watched as Reid quickly worked through this dilemma. It always amused him how easy the kid's face and body language were to read. First he saw the feeling of being caught, then frustration at being caught, then denial that he'd been caught, and lastly acceptance at being caught.

That's what Hotch was looking for as well before he moved in. Reid's hands were buried deep in his pockets and he was looking at his shoes. "You lied, Spencer." The use of his first name coming from Hotch was fully unexpected. He couldn't remember Hotch ever once using it to address him, and he didn't know what it meant. Something about his tone though made him want to hide behind Morgan. Glancing up, he found that stern look Hotch seemed to save only for him. He winced inside and immediately felt further dispirited. This too played across the young man's affect, and Hotch took his opportunity, "Morgan, can you take Spencer home and help him pack, then drive him to my apartment? He'll be staying with me for at least a week."

This surprised both of the men standing before him, but Morgan knew he needed to take this opportunity to mobilize Reid while he was still in a fairly acquiescent frame of mind. Placing his arm back around the young man's shoulders, he said, "Sure, Hotch. Where are you going to be?"

Already moving toward the parking lot, he said, "I need to pick up some supplies. I'll meet you there in an hour."

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Reid was silent for the entire walk to the parked cars. He was confused about what had transpired here tonight. What had happened to his plan? How had he let his coworkers ambush him like this? He admittedly was not at the top of his game right now, but was he really so off that he had forfeited his right to decide his fate for himself? He thought about how angry this should make him, but strangely, he instead felt safe, calmer and less agitated. Reid decided Hotch was better at understanding him than he thought.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

**Thank you for reading. I hope you're enjoying. Please do review; hearing from you keeps me writing.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Gentle Readers,**

**I feel it is time to reiterate my warning from the beginning of chapter 2. This story takes the Dominant/submissive relationship already present on CM and pushes it to a new level. Reid is a natural submissive who is in need of help, and thankfully, he's surrounded by alpha males who care about him. Hotch and Morgan's disciplinarian roles will only escalate from here. If you do not understand this dynamic, for your own emotional safety I urge you to discontinue reading. What this story is NOT: 1) Hard core S/M (though some disciplinary spanking will ensue shortly); 2) Slash.**

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I run the Colorado rapids with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**And without further ado, chapter six . . .**

XOXOXOXOXO

Morgan was worried about Reid. This kid, who normally couldn't shut up, had been way too quiet on the walk to the parking lot. He settled in behind the wheel of his Toyota Tundra 4X4 while Reid climbed into the passenger's seat. As Morgan prepared to pull out onto the street he glanced at his passenger rubbing his temples and frowning, "What's on your mind, kid?"

Discontinuing his massaging, but keeping his hands at his temples, Reid peeked through his fingers at the older man, "I – I'm not sure what's happening." Reid's hands dropped and he wrapped his arms around his midsection in a gesture Morgan recognized well. This was a self-comforting gesture Reid used when he was distressed. It always pained Morgan to see it, but even more so when the kid should be feeling safe in his company.

"Relax, man. Talk to me."

Reid's mouth opened, but no words came. This in itself was worrying. He was never at a loss for words. Carefully studying his knees, he tried again and was able to softly stammer out, "Wh-why am I g-going to stay with Hotch? What does he want?"

Morgan knew Reid could figure this one out for himself, he was simply too scared to think it through at the moment. Gently, he asked, "What do you think he wants?"

Reid took a few moments to calm himself and consider the situation. When he spoke again, he was too embarrassed by what he hoped would be true to get the thought out. Instead he tentatively asked, "H-he wants to make sure I'm safe?"

Morgan let out a quiet chuckle at the simplicity of that statement. It was so much more than that, but Reid had managed to dilute it down to Hotch keeping him safe, "Yeah, that's part of it. Why do you think he wants to keep you safe?"

For the life of him Reid could not find an answer that made sense to him. Hotch was an excellent boss and a shrewd profiler. He was clearly perceptive enough to figure out that Reid was suffering. However, Reid couldn't make the emotional jump to the idea that Hotch actually cared not only about his safety, but about his overall well-being and happiness. Reid's mouth opened and closed like a guppy, and his brow knitted while he tried to work out the answer to Morgan's question. In the end he simply shook his head and gave up. It made Morgan sad that his friend obviously couldn't understand he was cared about. Sighing, Morgan reached up and gently patted the young man on the shoulder. Maybe Hotch could help him to understand.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Driving toward the grocery store, Hotch thought about what he was doing. About what he was going to do. It surprised him how quickly this all happened. He hoped he was ready, but ready or not, he knew he would have to take total control of the situation if Reid was going to get through this unharmed. This thought worried him. What if he did more harm than good? He'd been a leader his entire life, and he was good at it – at work. This was different. He was about to take a very personal role in the life of one of his employees. He wasn't even sure how to take the next step. Think! What would Gideon do? Hotch knew the answer to that. But could he do everything that was required to follow his lead?

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Arriving at Reid's apartment, the younger man made a bee-line toward the bedroom. Morgan looked around. It always astounded him how strange Reid's home was. There was no television and with the exception of a single rolling swivel chair in the living room there was no place to sit. The center of the room was bare, which evidently gave the chair an area to roll. To the left was a table scattered with cards, coins and other baubles needed for magic tricks. Directly across from the door was an old turn table surrounded by record albums from the 1940's to the 1970's. The far left corner of the room contained a desk with maps of every kind spread across the surface and tacked to the wall above. His computer, printer and a small framed picture of his mother sat on a second smaller desk in the far right corner beside the kitchen. The most striking aspect was how few books he had laying around. Before he'd been to this apartment, Morgan had pictured it filled so full of books it would be difficult to move without knocking over a stack of tomes. When he'd asked Reid about this, the young man had shrugged and said, "I have an eidetic memory. Once I finish one, I donate it to the library."

The kitchen, other than the well-used coffee maker, was barren. If he ever ate, it was carry-out. Morgan made a mental note to talk to Hotch about the kid's diet. Wandering into the bedroom, he found an unmade twin bed, an old dresser that now held Reid's gun and holster, and Reid, hands in his pockets, standing at the window staring at the street two stories below. He considered asking what Reid was thinking about, but decided he would let him try working it out himself for awhile. Besides, it was getting late and judging by the sound of the thunder, they were in for a storm soon. Morgan wanted to get this kid to Hotch, and get himself home, before the rain started.

Opening the closet, Morgan found a duffle bag that should be big enough for his purpose. Opening the top dresser drawer, he found Reid's multi-colored socks in disarray. He chuckled, and as he grabbed a handful to stuff in the duffle, said, "If you sorted your socks before putting them away, you might have a chance at a day with normal footwear." When he didn't get a response, Morgan turned to look at Reid still standing at the window, just staring out. This was not a good sign; the kid was getting too wrapped up in his thoughts. Morgan decided to jolt him out of it if he could. He walked over to stand face-to-face with the young man. "Where were you going?" he asked with a curious but authoritative voice.

The unexpected question combined with the vocal inflection had the desired effect, and Reid looked up in confusion. Morgan had his friend's attention now at least, "At the airport. Where was that taxi going to take you?"

The look of consternation Morgan received was unexpected. Reid had been deep in thought trying to figure out what it was Hotch wanted from him. He was fairly certain his boss' expectations of him were about to change, and this frightened the young man. Reid knew how to behave in the work environment, but because Hotch had changed, he knew he would have to make adjustments as well. His psychological background told him Hotch was using classic disruption of homeostasis, and it was designed to bring about change, but the process was generally very uncomfortable for everyone until new roles and rules were accepted. While Reid's intellect could reason this out, his emotions were roiling. He didn't know how to handle what was coming. He wasn't in control, and not being in control had always meant pain for Reid. Panic began to rise in the young man's chest, and he struggled not to show his emotions. Morgan's question had caught him off guard. He was embarrassed to tell the truth; he didn't feel he should even have to answer that question. Mostly, though, he was feeling a desire to run away, so he wasn't really even aware of how he answered the question when it happened, "That's none of your business!" He pushed past the muscular man and headed out the bedroom door.

Astonished at his friend's response, Morgan grimly asked, "Where do you think you're going?"

Something in the older man's tone made Reid change his mind about storming out the front door and down onto the street. Turning suddenly, he headed for the bathroom a few steps away, "I need to pack my toothbrush, if that's okay with you." And he disappeared into the next room.

Reid was acting like a full-fledged brat now and Morgan was dreading the ride to Hotch's place. He considered confronting the young man, but decided it was late and they both needed to get some rest. The sooner they got him packed, the sooner that would happen. By the sounds of the clanking and crashing coming from the bathroom, Reid was packing up the entire room. Morgan kept an ear toward the sounds making sure he wasn't hurting himself or doing too much damage. As the clattering began to quiet down, he turned his attention to gathering Reid's clothing, and once again thought about taking his friend to the mall to update his wardrobe. He dressed like a 70 year old man. No wonder he couldn't get a date.

When he thought he had a respectable assortment of items, Morgan headed out of the room and called, "You about ready to go, kid?" Silence. "Kid?" Hastening his step into the bathroom, he was shocked to find it empty. The window was wide open, and with a glace out at the fire escape, Morgan knew the kid had run away. Grabbing the packed duffle, he bolted out the front door and down the two flights of stairs growling all the way about how he was going to wring Reid's neck when he found him.

XOXOXOXOXO

**Hope you enjoyed. Please, please, please review. It's the only paycheck I get for this labor of love. **


	7. Chapter 7

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, Criminal Minds rides bitch on my bike, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**And now, chapter 7 . . .**

XOXOXOXOXO

"It's not fair! No one asked me what I wanted," Reid thought as he resentfully knocked the medicine bottles, tweezers and toenail clippers off the bathroom shelf. Of course, all he really wanted right now was one last hit of dilaudid. If he had that, going to Hotch's place wouldn't seem so overwhelming. Not a lot, he thought, just enough to numb him up a bit. He was afraid Hotch was going to yell at him like he probably wanted to on the jet, and he just didn't want to deal with that right now.

Quietly sliding the window open, Reid made his decision. Morgan would be angry with him, but if he could get his hands on his drug before the older agent got his hands on Reid, it wouldn't matter as much. He slid out the window and quickly started his decent. A couple of raindrops hit his arm, and he reconsidered his decision. He hadn't brought a jacket, but if he hurried maybe he could avoid the rain altogether. Quickening his pace, Reid dropped the last few feet to the street below. Turning right, he started running in the direction he knew would take him to his source. Reaching the corner, he looked back, and finding no signs of being followed, he slowed a bit. It wouldn't take Morgan long to realize he was gone. Taking the alleys might be a bit more dangerous, but he could stay well hidden along the way. Jogging to the next alleyway over, he dove into the relative darkness.

Traversing the first two blocks was uneventful, but now he was nearing a more sordid area of town. Slowing to a walk now, Reid turned at every noise and continued to scan the surrounding dark corners. Alleys may provide more hiding opportunities for him, but they also provided for those with ill intent. As he was beginning to think this was a bad idea, something crashed loudly behind him. He spun around to find three dark figures emerging from the shadows. His hand automatically went to his gun, only to find it missing. Reid winced thinking that if he got out of this alive, Morgan was going to completely obliterate him for forgetting his sidearm.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Hitting the ground floor, Morgan scanned the empty street in front of him. Several drops of the impending rain storm hastened his steps to his truck. Throwing the duffel into the back seat, he considered which direction to start looking. One direction would take him toward at residential part of town; the other took him to a rather seedy area. Knowing this kid, that was the direction to follow.

Making a wide u-turn, he gunned the truck down the road. He was as angry as a wet cat, but he knew he had to stow his emotions for now if he was going to find Reid. He pulled out his phone and dialed the kid's number. As the phone continued to ring, Morgan willed Reid to come to his senses and answer. When he got the automated message, he slammed the phone shut and cursed under his breath.

He had to think like his friend if he was going to find him quickly. Why had he run off? He was frightened of staying with Hotch, but Morgan wondered if he would really run out in an impending rainstorm at midnight to avoid that. Where would he go? Morgan suspected Reid was either using dilaudid again, or he was seriously considering it. He was certain the kid could find it in this part of town, and he probably knew right where to go. If he was still on foot, he couldn't have gotten far, but he knew Morgan would be driving. How would he hide himself? There were no businesses open on this street or the next two. Morgan turned the corner thinking the kid probably couldn't have gotten much further than three blocks away by now. With no sign of him, Morgan realized the his friend had probably decided the back alleys would hide him better. He was going to kill him.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Arriving at his apartment, Hotch immediately began unloading his groceries. His pantry and refrigerator were bare, and while it was fine for him to order in when he was home, it didn't seem right to treat a houseguest this way. He actually enjoyed cooking, but cooking for one was never exciting. It would be good to get back into the kitchen again. Hotch had started a habit recently of flipping the television on as soon as he walked in the door. It helped to push away the intense silence of his lonely dwelling. He smiled ironically when the television came on to the cooking channel. He'd forgotten he had been watching this before he left for the latest assignment. His favorite, Alton Brown, happened to be on at the moment.

He'd gotten about half of his purchases put away when his cell rang. Looking at the caller ID, he answered, "Morgan. What's up?" The younger agent was controlled, yet clearly angry. As Hotch listened to how Reid had run away, the headache slowly returned. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to calm down, "Do you need me to come help look for him?" Morgan told him if he couldn't find the kid in the next half hour, he'd call Hotch for backup, "Thanks, Morgan. Keep me updated."

Hotch looked out at the rain-soaked night. What did that kid think he was doing? Couldn't he see they were trying to help him? A feeling of dread slowly crept up his spine. What if Reid needed more help than he or Morgan could offer?

No, Reid simply hadn't figured it out yet. Hotch decided he still needed to give his plan a chance to work. If after a week the kid was still acting like this, he would have to consider an alternative.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

As the dark shadows drew closer Reid ascertained these were young adults, younger than himself, but much larger, and probably members of a local gang. They'd want money and anything else of value he might be carrying. There was also a distinct probability of some physical violence. Reid knew homicide was unlikely given the statistics related to teen and young adult violence, but he also knew that aggravated assault topped the list of crimes most often committed by this population. Not a pleasant alternative.

Thunder cracked loudly above, and the rain began in earnest. Seemingly not noticing the weather change, the largest of the three stepped to the front and sneered, "Where d'you think you're goin', jackoff?" There was a flash of metal where his hand should be.

Reid slowly back away until his back hit something solid. From the cold feel and the hollow sound it made when he hit, it was almost certainly a dumpster. He didn't dare turn around to see. There was nowhere else to go, so he began to ramble. It had been his tried and true method of self-preservation since he was a child. Most of the time it worked, and he really had no other choice at the moment. He could hear his mouth moving and saw the bewildered looks on his attackers' faces. What was he even talking about? Something out of a textbook he'd read years ago, ". . . and according to one longitudinal study young men who engage in this kind of activity have 30 percent more chance of being depressed as adults . . . " He could hear his vocal range rising and his rate of speech speed up, but there was nothing he could do about it. ". . .and, and furthermore they're 70 percent more likely to suffer multiple divorces and financial problems later in life. . ." The biggest man started to move in on him again, ". . . but, but, but it's not their fault!" Reid's hands were held up in front of him in a placating manner. "Most parents don't know how to help angry children . . . " The pain he felt on the side of his face didn't even register until he hit the ground. When he felt a heavy boot burry itself in his liver, he folded in on himself trying to protect what vital organs he could.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Morgan wished he had some idea where Reid would find dilaudid around here. It would make finding him so much easier. As it was he was having to slowly troll as many alleyways as he could, as quickly as possible, in hopes that he was correct about Reid's path. As the rain began to pour down, he glanced down a particularly dark and narrow alley. Slowing down to take a closer look, he saw a few people gathered together, but he couldn't see what they were doing. He estimated the width of his truck would make negotiating this confined space difficult, so he pulled over and quietly moved in.

Listening carefully, he could hear someone talking very quickly. As he approached, he recognized that voice as Reid's. He was talking very fast. Not a good sign. Morgan continued to listen considering letting the kid try and talk his way out of whatever it was he'd gotten himself into. He had seen Reid successful at this before, but something told him the young man was too nervous for it to work this time. That's when he heard the loud smack and something hitting the ground hard. Morgan set out at a run, pulling his gun. "Hey! That's enough!" he yelled. The boys saw this imposing man running toward them, gun raised, and took off in the other direction. Any other time Morgan would be frustrated at the loss of an arrest, but now he was only interested in making sure Reid was safe.

Finding a crumpled mess curled up at the base of a dumpster, he knelt down and placed his hand on Reid's head, "You okay, kid? Come on. Open your eyes and look at me."

"Morgan?" Reid's eyes struggled to open. When he saw his friend's concerned face hovering above him, he fought to sit up. "I – I'm fine" he croaked.

The kid most certainly wasn't fine, but nothing seemed to be broken, and if he wasn't going to be honest with Morgan, the older man was going to give him what he deserved. He grabbed Reid's upper arms and hauled him to his feet. His rain-soaked hair and clothes made him look like a drowned rat. Morgan took hold of one arm, perhaps gripping a bit harder than necessary, and headed toward his waiting truck.

Reid was startled by the rough treatment, but moved his feet fearing Morgan might rip his arm off if he didn't follow. " . . . ahh, oww! Morgan, you're hurting me."

Reaching his truck, Morgan turned on the young man, "Yeah, and if you ever run away on me like that again, I'm going to hurt a whole lot more of you than this! Get in the truck." He opened the door, helped Reid in and shut the door. Jogging to the driver's side, he jumped in, started the engine and started driving to Hotch's apartment. He was livid! This was one of the rare times Morgan actually raised his voice, "Reid, running away, not answering your phone when I call, and putting yourself into that kind of danger is completely unacceptable! What if I hadn't found you when I did? Those kids were out for blood, or worse! And where were you going anyway? Are you using again, Man? If I find out you are . . . " He glanced over to find his young friend back in that familiar position, arms wrapped tightly around his midsection, but now the wet hair on his hanging head streamed rivulets of water into his lap. He was clearly sobbing, but putting forth a valiant effort to hide that fact. He was also shivering uncontrollably and hadn't even managed to get his seatbelt on yet. Morgan's heart melted and he felt immediately guilty that he hadn't taken better care of his friend's needs before tearing into him. As soon as it was safe he pulled his truck over, reached into the seat behind him and pulled out an emergency wool blanket. Cranking up the heater on the truck, he draped the blanket over his hurting friend and tucked the edges in around him to reduce heat loss. "Hey, look at me" He said gently, "You're going to be okay. You understand me?"

Reid couldn't really meet his friend's eye, but he nodded his understanding as he sniffled quietly. Morgan reached over, pulled the seatbelt across the young man and latched it in place. He started the truck up, put a gentle hand on Reid's exposed neck, and started toward Hotch's again. He didn't break physical contact with the kid throughout the drive except to make a quick phone call to their boss and fill him in on what had transpired. Reid was grateful and he felt calmer knowing Morgan was there and going to take care of him.


	8. Chapter 8

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I do my homework with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**Presenting, chapter 8 . . .**

XOXOXOXOXO

Hotch buzzed Morgan into his parking garage. Once parked, Morgan turned to Reid. He had stopped shivering but still clutched the blanket closely about himself. "You ready to go, kid?"

Reid visibly gulped but nodded his head. Morgan unbuckled both of their seatbelts then gently took the blanket from his young friend. Reid took a deep breath and reached for the door handle.

Walking to the elevator together, the younger man jammed his hands as deeply in his pockets as he could. Morgan threw his arm around the kid's shoulders both for support and guidance. The kid was shaking again, probably more nerves than cold, but he was still soaking wet. If he didn't get out of these wet clothes soon, he was going to get sick. Morgan was also worried about the red, swelling area under the kid's left eye.

On the eighth floor they stepped off the elevator and approached Hotch's door. As they grew closer Reid's steps slowed, but Morgan kept him moving forward. There was no way the kid was backing out of this now. Morgan knocked on the door. They waited only a moment before Hotch answered. Their boss was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. Reid almost laughed both from nerves and the unexpected sight of his ever-formal boss dressed so casually.

Hotch took his cue from Morgan's distraught visage. He had considered tearing into Reid the second he walked in the door, but if Morgan was this concerned then yelling wouldn't help matters right now. Instead, he ushered the pair inside and took Ried's duffel bag from Morgan. "That's quite a shiner you're developing there," He said, taking Reid's chin in his hand to examine it closer. "We'll get an ice pack on that soon, but I don't know how much good it'll do." Turning his attention to Morgan, he said, "Thank you for everything tonight, Morgan. We won't be into work before 11 tomorrow. I expect you to do the same."

Morgan recognized a dismissal when he heard one. Normally, he would be hesitant leaving matters as they were, but Reid was in good hands and they needed to start working things out. And the kid needed to get into some dry clothes. As he headed out the door, he admonished, "Behave yourself, kid. And Hotch, get him into something dry, will ya?" He stepped out the door and Hotch closed it behind him.

He turned back to Reid and lightly sighed, "You need a warm shower and dry clothes. The guest bedroom is this way." Still carrying Reid's bag, he walked past the young man, gave his arm a pat and walked down a short hallway. Turning right into a small bedroom furnished only with a twin bed and a dresser, he dropped the duffel on the bed. Reid lingered uncomfortably in the doorway, visibly shivering again. Hotch considered his next move, then unzipped the bag, rooted around a bit and found what he was looking for. Morgan had actually thought to pack pajamas for the kid. He pulled them out along with a couple unmatched socks, and handed them to Reid. Pointing across the hall, he said, "Shower's there. Clean towels are hanging up. Get in there and warm up."

Reid hesitantly took the pile of clothes from Hotch and shuffled in the direction indicated. Walking into the bathroom, he shut the door and slowly removed his wet clothing. He started the water running and waited for it to warm up. When he stepped into the stream, he immediately started feeling better. The warm water brought with it a feeling of comfort he never wanted to leave. Reid stood under the pouring water for as long as he could, doing his best to shut his brain off. As exhausted as he was, this wasn't as difficult as it normally was. When he caught himself falling asleep, he turned the water off and grabbed a towel. It was the biggest, fluffiest towel Reid had ever seen. He nearly laughed again thinking of his boss buying such a towel. Wrapping it around himself and luxuriating in the feeling of it, he stepped out of the tub. He was so warm and comfortable now he wasn't sure he even had the energy to get dressed.

He stood before the mirror and examined the swelling below his eye. It hurt when it happened, but he couldn't really feel it now. Maybe it wouldn't even bruise, he thought hopefully. Feeling a sharp pain in his side, he pulled the towel away to find another large red welt on his right side. Now this one hurt! He touched it gingerly and winced. Hotch wouldn't be happy about his foray into the dark alleyways of D.C., and this certainly wouldn't help his case any. He quickly dressed to cover the bruising skin and dearly wished he could do something about his face. Sighing, he opened the door and walked into the hall not entirely sure what he was supposed to do now.

Hotch was waiting for him and approached from his office at the end of the hall. Reid, standing in his boss' home wearing his pajamas, suddenly felt very shy and exposed. He crossed his arms again and bashfully looked up at his boss through his eyelashes. Placing a hand on Reid's shoulder, the older man asked, "Feeling better?" Reid nodded his head looking everywhere but directly at Hotch. "Good. Finish getting ready for bed. There's a hairdryer under the sink; make sure you use it. I'll prepare an ice pack for that eye. Are you hurt any place else?" Reid bit his lower lip, and that was all the answer the older man needed, "Show me" he demanded.

Reid unfolded his arms and did as he was told. He lifted his nightshirt just high enough to reveal the large red mark at the side of his abdomen. Hotch winced and once again considered tearing into this kid for his poor decisions tonight. Instead, he sighed and asked, "How are you feeling otherwise?" Reid merely shrugged and studied his feet. Hotch understood that the kid was beyond worn out, "Well, that's going to hurt pretty bad in the morning, but I doubt there's much we can do about it tonight. Go get ready for bed." With this he walked into the kitchen leaving Reid alone to finish up.

He poured a glass of water from the refrigerator, took a couple Ibuprofin from the bottle on the counter, slipped the last item from the grocery store out of the plastic bag, grabbed the icepack from the freezer and headed back down the hall. Reaching the guest room he found it empty. He could hear the hairdryer running in the bathroom. Hotch set the items in his hands on the dresser, plugging in the one from the grocery store, then sat on the bed and waited patiently thinking that things were going well so far. Of course the difficult part would start tomorrow.

The drone of the hairdryer stopped and the young man, hair flopped down over his eyes, exited the bathroom. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands and kept wiping them on his pant legs. Hotch rose and held up the water and pain killers for the nervous young man, "Take these. They'll help with the pain."

Reid downed them and finally looked Hotch in the eye, "Thank you."

Hotch was grateful the kid was finally starting to relax a little, "Time for bed." He pulled the blankets back and waited for his charge to climb in. Reid was too tired to protest the gesture normally reserved for children. He lay down and let Hotch actually tuck him in. He hadn't been treated this way since he was six. Then the older man took the icepack from the dresser and gently placed it below his swollen eye. Reid reached up to secure it in place and looked up at his boss saying thank you with his soft brown eyes.

Giving Reid a small smile, Hotch turned to leave. At the door he turned back, "Sleep well, Spencer. And if you leave this room before 8am, I'll make sure you regret it. Am I understood?"

He returned the small smile but took the admonishment very seriously, "Yes, Sir."

As Hotch began closing the bedroom door, Reid felt a slight stab of panic at being left in the dark. That was when he noticed the small turtle nightlight over the dresser. It turned on automatically as the room darkened. He snuggled in and fell fast asleep.

XOXOXOXOXO

**Okay, I know this one was short. It was a tough work week for me, but I'm on vacation all next week. I promise the next chapter will make up for this one. Come on, don't make me beg. Please review. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Well, here it is – the chapter I'm the most nervous about posting. I got about as many calls for this one to be published as those asking me not to do it. At the end of the day I have to be true to myself, so with that, here's the notification:**

**WARNING: spanking of an adult contained within. If you don't like, don't read.**

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I watch Cash Cab with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**Without further ado, chapter 9 . . .**

XOXOXOXOXO

The morning came too early. Hotch was up at dawn as usual. He straightened the bed, took a quick shower, and dressed in clean sweats and a gray t-shirt. He quietly opened the guest bedroom door and found Reid sleeping soundly. Silently closing the door, he wandered into his office. He spent the next couple of hours looking through files and finishing up paperwork. At 7:45 he heard Reid beginning to stir. He headed for the kitchen and began chopping peppers, onions and ham for omelets. Five minutes later Hotch was ready to cook, but there was still no sign of Reid. He grinned to himself when the young agent waited until exactly 8:00 to leave the room.

Shuffling down the hall in his pajamas, Reid sleepily rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up at all angles. Glancing at the young man, Hotch had the fleeting impression of a drowsy 5 year old looking to start his day.

"Good morning. Sleep well?"

Yawning, Reid nodded, "Like a baby."

Hotch grinned at the odd expression. He knew from experience that babies rarely sleep soundly. He finished up the first omelet and flipped it onto a plate, then set it on the table and gestured to Reid to sit, "Eat" he ordered.

Reid was famished. He immediately sat and dug in. It was the first homemade breakfast he could remember having in a very long time, and it was delicious. He gulped down the orange juice, and then scanned the kitchen in hopes of finding a coffee pot brewing. Disappointed at not finding one, he considered bringing it up with Hotch, but then thought better of it. He already felt like he was imposing, which was odd since he'd practically been dragged here.

Finishing the second omelet, Hotch sat and began eating. "How're you feeling?" he asked through a mouthful of breakfast.

Reid felt far more relaxed after a good night's sleep, but his eye was a deep shade of purple as was the right side of his torso. He felt stiff and sore, but he said, "I feel okay."

Hotch carefully laid his fork down and gravely looked the young man in the eye, "Spencer, If this is going to work, you're going to need to be honest with me." He held Reid's eye a moment longer, then resumed eating his breakfast.

Embarrassed at being caught in a lie, Reid nodded his head, "I'm sorry. I-I'm a little sore."

"There's Ibuprofin on the counter. Pour yourself some more juice and take a couple."

Reid, his gangly legs not yet ready to obey him this morning, awkwardly rose from the table and did as he was told. Lingering at the counter, he cleared his throat hoping his next words wouldn't make his voice crack, "H-Hotch, what are we doing here?" He was curious and not at all defiant. He deserved an answer.

Hotch deliberated for a moment how to proceed. Removing their dirty dishes to the sink and standing face-to-face with his youngest agent, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

Reid seemed confused by the question, but answered, "Of course I do."

"I'm going to ask you a question and I need an honest answer. Can you give that to me?"

The young man gulped and thought about this, "Yes, sir."

"Are you using again?"

Reid had been fairly certain this question was coming. He wasn't sure how to respond, but he'd promised Hotch an honest answer, "I-uh. . . no, not exactly." Hotch gazed at him patiently waiting for a more complete answer. "I-I wanted to. I t-tried to . . . last night." He broke eye contact with the older man, and the rest poured out like a damn breaking, "I was going to buy dilaudid when I left the airport, but then you guys stopped me. Then I tried again when I got away from Morgan, and . . . well, you know how that turned out." He was studying his socks and feeling truly embarrassed by his weakness. He hated admitting he was so tempted by his addiction.

Hotch placed a hand gently on the younger man's upper arm, "Thank you for trusting me with that. Now, will you trust me to help you?"

Reid looked up through his eyelashes at his boss, barely daring to hope that he was offering what he needed. All he could do was nod in affirmation.

Hotch gave one of his patented stiff nods that signaled a deal had been made, "Good. Then let's have a seat in the living room and talk." Never taking his hand off of Reid's thin arm, he gently guided him to the couch. With both men seated, the older man began, "I know Gideon helped you a great deal when you needed it before, and I would never suggest that I can fill his shoes, but I'd like to try to help you in the same fashion he did."

He let that sink in while he carefully watched the younger man. Reid squirmed and blushed a bit. He remembered Gideon counseling him, staying up with him when the nightmares threatened, and in general protecting him from distractions when he so desperately needed to concentrate on healing. But he also remembered the restrictive rules, slowly earning his freedoms back, and how Gideon had enforced his rules. It was a disconcerting thought he might have to go back to that, but Reid had to admit that, once he had detoxed, the intervention worked very well and quite quickly. He cleared his throat and squeaked out, "umm . . . everything that Gideon did?"

"We'll work out a set of rules. I'm sure some of them will be the same. I'm not Gideon, and I won't try to be, but if this type of intervention is what works for you, I'm willing to help you the best I can."

Reid recognized that he was being given a choice. He could very easily walk away and try to find his own way through this mess. As frightening as the thought of pouring all of his trust into Hotch was, he wasn't sure he was capable of fixing this himself. Deep down he knew he truly wanted what Hotch was offering. He slowly looked up, finally making eye contact with the older man and merely nodded his head in agreement. Then he dropped his eyes and chewed on his lower lip wondering what it was he just got himself into.

As relieved as he was to have that out of the way, Hotch was almost willing to let yesterday's events slide, but that would not serve the kid well at all. Instead, he softly stated, "In the last 24 hours you've lied to both Morgan and me, you've been belligerent, you ran away from Morgan refusing to answer the phone when he called, and you knowingly put yourself, and in turn Morgan, in serious danger. Tell me, would Gideon put up with that kind of behavior?"

Reid's hair fell about his face as he intently studied his knees; his arms found their way back around his midsection. Hotch wasn't really going to punish him for those things, was he? He shook his head and meekly answered, "No, sir. He wouldn't, but that's not fair. I did all those things before we agreed to anything. You can't penalize me for that."

Hardening his heart against the plea he heard behind the kid's assertive words, Hotch asked, "Were you under the impression that any of those behaviors were acceptable at any time, regardless of our agreement?"

The young man gulped, "No, sir. But . . . but, it's not fair." He could hear the whine in his own voice and berated himself for it. Don't act like a baby!

"How would Gideon have handled this, Spencer?"

Reid really didn't want to answer that, but Hotch was deadly serious. "He'd have spa . . ." his voice trailed off. He just couldn't say it. It was too embarrassing. Maybe a different choice of words would help, "He'd have p-punished me." There. He'd said it.

Rising from the couch, Hotch held out a hand, "Come with me, please".

Startled by how fast things were progressing, Reid's head shot up to meet Hotch's eyes, mouth open to protest, though he couldn't think of what to say. Hotch simply reached down to help the young man to his feet. He firmly guided Reid past the bedrooms, and steered him to facing the empty corner at the end of the hall. Reid was confused by this action and tried to turn around. He had never in his life been made to stand in the corner. Hotch took both of the young man's arms in his hands and firmly turned him back to face the corner, saying, "You have ten minutes to think about why you're being punished. Do not move from this corner until I come to get you." With this, he went to the kitchen to clean the breakfast dishes.

Suddenly alone, Reid stared agape at the wall in front of him. Slowly, the shock of this new situation began to subside and was replaced with the old familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach. He didn't want to think about what was coming, but he vividly remembered the last time he felt this way. Having a particularly difficult day he had thrown a temper tantrum about something stupid. Gideon had taken exception to his behavior and sent him to his room. When he had angrily refused, the older man had marched him to his room, spanked him soundly and made him go to bed early that night. It had hurt, but his mood was greatly improved the next day, and he was able to express his frustrations to his mentor in a more effective manner. Recalling that episode, he felt his butt starting to tingle.

XOXOXOXOXO

As Hotch cleaned the kitchen he considered Reid's argument. He was right. There was no agreement between them when he had committed these transgressions, but the fact remained that he had put himself in danger again, and if this were the only thing he had done, that would be enough to constitute this punishment. Hotch would not let the kid believe that no one cared about what he was doing.

He also thought about his son, Jack. He would never in a thousand years consider using corporal punishment on his own child. Why did he think it was suitable now? The answer was simple: It worked. This actually worked quite well with his youngest agent, but Hotch realized that was because of Reid's personality. Using this kind of discipline with any other member of his team would never fly because deep down none of them needed or wanted this kind of attention. Reid evidently did.

XOXOXOXOXO

Reid could hear Hotch working in the kitchen. Ten minutes seemed to be taking a very long time. If this was going to happen, he wished Hotch would just get it over with. He must have been standing here for ten minutes by now. Reid made a mental note to always wear his watch while he was here.

Deep in these musings he didn't notice when Hotch stepped up behind him. He jumped when the older man spoke, "It's time. Let's go, Spencer."

Reid turned around, eyes down. Hotch stepped aside to let him pass then laid a firm hand on the young man's back to help guide him into his bedroom. Once inside Hotch sat on the bed, took Reid's wrist, and pulled him down over his lap. Shifting a bit to get him in a comfortable position, Hotch reached his left hand over the boy's waist to help anchor him, but thought better of it remembering the large bruise he carried there. Instead he laid that hand on his lower back more as a reminder to keep still.

Reid reached up to grasp a pillow in which to bury his face. The young man could hardly believe how embarrassing this was to be butt up over his boss' knee.

All thoughts of emotional discomfiture vanished as soon as Hotch laid the first swat on him. It took a moment for the sensation to register in his head, but when it did, he flinched, shocked by how much it hurt. Gideon had always spanked him on his bare butt, so he was grateful that at least so far Hotch was leaving his pajama bottoms in place, not that the thin cotton offered much protection from the smacks that continued to fall in a steady rhythm. He tried hard not to cry out or squirm, but as the spanking continued he found it quite difficult. His bottom felt like it was being attacked by a swarm of bees, "Please. I'm s-s-sorry!" The tears were threatening to start at any moment, but it was what Hotch did next that really got them flowing. Hotch, continuing to spank, started to lecture.

"You're behavior yesterday was unacceptable. I will not tolerate your lying for any reason. For now on I expect honesty! Am I clear?"

"Y-yessss, Ssssirrrr." Reid cried

"I also expect you to show respect to your teammates. We're all here for you, Spencer, and I will not have you abusing people because you're having a bad day. Is that clear?"

Reid's tears were streaming down his cheeks now. He felt horrible about his behavior and how it had affected Morgan in particular. But that didn't make him change his mind about this spanking; he still wanted it to be over, "Yes, sir! I'm sorry. Please . . ." Hotch wanted it to stop now too, but he needed to make sure this lesson was going to stick. He continued spanking for another minute, struggling to keep the squirming boy in place over his knees. As Reid slowly started to give up the fight and his resistance lessened, Hotch considered one last point he needed to make.

The young man over his lap was sobbing now, and barely fighting him at all anymore. Hotch accented each word with a swat, "One more thing." Suddenly, he stopped spanking. He wanted the kid to really hear this part, "If you ever disappear on me or anyone on our team, or knowingly put yourself into serious danger again, I'll make this spanking feel like a day at an amusement park!" This made the young man sob even harder. Instead of resuming the spanking, Hotch gently began rubbing circles in Reid's back. He knew the kid had gotten the point.

After a few minutes, the sobbing slowed to quiet hiccups. Hotch gently helped the young man off his lap, but he crumpled to the floor and onto his knees in front of the older man. Automatically, Hotch placed a light hand on the kid's head. This was all the signal the sniffling young man needed to throw himself into Hotch's arms. He needed that connection now, and as uncomfortable as the older man normally was with physical contact, he hugged him to his chest and waited for the boy to calm down.

Sniffling into Hotch's chest, Reid tried to apologize, "I-I'm s-sorry, Hotch. . . I'm so sorry . . . "

"Shhh, Spencer, it's over now. Everything is forgiven and we're going to start fresh from this point on. We're going to deal with whatever's been bothering you, and then we'll move forward." Gently coaxing the young man's head back to look at him, Hotch continued, "You're important to this team, and you're important to me. I am by no means the greatest father in the world, but you've always felt like a son to me." Realizing that Reid was almost the same age as his brother, Sean, he changed his mind, "Well, maybe more like a little brother. I'm sorry I haven't been there for you as much as I should, but I'd like to try to make up for that, if you'll give me the chance."

Reid's face scrunched up, and he began to cry again. He could barely remember having a father, or a real parent at all, other than Gideon. His whole childhood he had needed to be the adult, never allowed to be a child. He loved his mother; she had done what she could to raise him, but honestly he had needed to parent her more than she did him. Hotch gathered him up and held him until the crying quieted and he limply hung in the older man's arms.

Reaching to the dresser, Hotch grabbed the box of tissues and laid it on the bed. Spencer grabbed a handful and noisily blew his nose. He didn't want to leave the comfort of Hotch's arms, but it was getting late, and they still needed to dress for work.

Hotch needed to cover one more area with the kid before that though. He patted the bed beside him, bidding the young man to sit next to him.

Reid shakily rose from the floor, grabbed more tissue, and gingerly sat on the bed.

"There're a few rules we need to go over."

Reid drew a quivering breath and nodded his head.

"First, for the rest of this week at least, I want you within earshot at all times."

"Apron-stringing." Reid grimly stated.

"Excuse me? What is that?"

"That's what Gideon called it. Until I had fully detoxed, I wasn't allowed further away from him than if I were tied to his apron strings." Reid couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Hotch had to grin. That sounded like something his old mentor would invent. "I don't think we need to take it that far. You're not detoxing from anything now, and I would hope I can trust you further than that. When we're in the office, the distance between your desk and mine should be sufficient, don't you think?"

Reid gave a grateful smile and nodded his head.

"However, if we are in the field at any point this week, you will stay with me at all times."

The young agent wasn't happy with that. What if someone on the team started asking questions? Maybe Hotch would go for a compromise, "What about Morgan? Can I go with him sometimes too?"

Hotch considered this, then conceded, "I'll discuss that possibility with him if we end up in the field." He saw Reid smile a bit, then continued, "Second, you will attend an N.A. meeting every day, and not just this week. Every day for the next two months at least."

Reid was shocked by this proclamation, "Every day? But what about when we're in the field?"

"Before we board the jet, I expect a copy of all the N.A. meetings in the area we'll be. That will be your responsibility. If you do not provide me with that, or if you can't find any meetings, you'll stay home."

Reid was beginning to feel grumpy about this one. Gideon had never made him go to those stupid meetings. He could hear the petulance creeping into his voice, but he couldn't do anything about it, "Who's going to babysit me then if I'm not with you?"

Hotch gave him a warning look. Reid gulped and tried to look apologetic. Hotch decided to let it go this time, "We'll have to work something out with Garcia, I suppose."

The look of horror the young man produced at this news was almost comical. "What? No way!" She'd mother him to death if she knew he was having problems.

"Do you have another suggestion?" the older man asked reasonably.

His genius mind tried desperately to come up with some other option, "I . . . uhh . . . I could . . ." Damn!

Hotch waited patiently for an alternative. Seeing the young man give up, he said, "Don't worry, unless we're in the wilds of Alaska, you'll most likely find sufficient meetings to attend. Last rule. I expect you to be honest with me about when you're feeling like using. We'll create a plan to help you take your mind off it, and an escape plan for when the cravings are just too much, in the meantime you're to come to me when the urge to use hits you. I don't care what I'm doing or how slight an urge it is. You let me know. Understood?"

Reid shook his head, "Yes, sir." He was astonished by how few rules there were. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Oh, and one last thing. Not really a rule, just an expectation. I will treat you like an adult if you act like one, but start acting like a child again and you know what's going to happen, right?"

Reid, wide-eyed and blushing slightly, bit his lower lip, sniffled and emphatically nodded.

"Good, then we understand each other." Hotch rose from the bed, "It's nearly 10:00. We need to get a move on. You have 20 minutes before we leave." He placed a hand on the kid's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, then left the room to get ready for work.

XOXOXOXO

**Hope you enjoyed. Please review. Thanks!**


	10. Chapter 10

Walking into the J. Edgar Hoover building from the parking garage at 11:00 on the dot, Hotch kept a watchful eye on Reid. He seemed pensive. Hotch pushed the button to call the elevator, and discreetly asked, "Want to talk about it?"

The younger man blushed, but tried to answer, "I – umm . . . I'm afraid I might let you down. I don't want to mess up, but what if I do? When the cravings get really bad, I - I'm not sure I'll be able to be honest about it."

Hotch took a deep breath to answer just as the elevator doors opened. There were three people in the car preparing to leave, so instead he laid a supportive hand on Reid's back, and once the elevator was empty, ushered him inside. As they rode up together alone Hotch said, "You're bright, you're strong, and you know the consequences of losing the battle with this drug. You also have an entire family who are here to support you in this fight." At the worried look Reid flashed him, he answered, "No, I'm not going to tell them anything, but if you were to confide in them, they would willingly give you any support you asked for. I know you're worried about letting me down, but I'm concerned that you're not worried enough about letting yourself down." As they reached their floor, Hotch waited for acknowledgement that the younger man took his meaning. Reid offered a serious nod, and satisfied with that for the moment, the older man stepped off the elevator and into the familiar surroundings of the BAU offices. Reid followed closely at his heals.

Hotch marched directly to his office. As was his practice he left his door open to make himself more accessible to his team, but today he did this especially for Reid.

Reid had business to take care of first thing. He had been feeling guilty about the way he'd involved Emily in his actions in Texas. He'd given her no choice and hadn't at the time considered her feelings. Not finding her in the bullpen, on a hunch he headed toward J.J.'s office. Indeed, she was there clarifying points about a recent case in a file she was working on. He knocked lightly on the door to announce his presence, and both women looked up, their expressions quickly changing to shock. Reid looked behind him thinking there must be something really awful approaching. Finding nothing, he perplexedly turned back to his coworkers.

Emily, never one to mince words, blurted out, "What happened to you?"

The young man remained confused only a moment longer before he remembered the developing bruise below his left eye. His hand shot up to cover it before he realized what he was doing. He'd forgotten to create a cover story for his injuries. "Quick, think of something!" He silently berated himself. Remembering to stay as close to the truth as possible, he stammered out, "I . . . uhh, I was jumped on the way home last night." He tried to make eye contact while he said this, but he simply couldn't.

Luckily for him, this news staggered the ladies so much they didn't notice. They jumped up from their chairs and advanced on the young man, lavishing him with their anxious attentions. The concerned questions came at Reid so quickly, he wasn't sure who was asking what, "How did that happen? Did you call the police? Did they say anything? What do you remember about the attacker? How many attackers were there? Are you okay? Did they hurt more than your eye?"

He raised his hands in a placating manner and tried to calm them down, "I'm fine. No, they didn't hurt me any more than this. I'll file a report today. I'm fine. I swear."

Neither looked convinced. It was clear they wanted to press further, so Reid decided to change the subject as hastily as possible, "Hey, umm . . . Emily. I wanted to apologize for, well . . . acting so impulsively in Texas. Handing you my gun like that put you in a difficult situation . . .and . . . I'm sorry. You too J.J. I'm really sorry guys."

Both women thought this change of subject was odd. Most people who'd been mugged the night before would want to talk about the incident in far greater detail, and in this situation, that person might use the mugging to garner greater sympathy before apologizing in order to be more readily forgiven. Still considering the evidence before her, Emily spluttered out, "Umm, yeah. Okay. Well . . . don't do it again, okay?"

Reid could see both ladies were still stuck on his mugging story. He'd made his apology, and thought it best to beat a rapid retreat back to the bullpen. He quickly nodded his head, and backed away muttering, "Yeah, sure. It won't happen again." He was saved from further questioning when Garcia hurried in from the other direction. He used this distraction to quickly disappear down the hall, but not soon enough to avoid hearing Garcia ask, "Was that a bruise on Reid's face?" The young man was grateful to get out when he did. If Garcia had gotten her hands on him, she'd never let him go until he told the truth, then she'd smoother him with attention for days. This way Emily and J.J. would give her his story and with any luck she would buy it.

Nearly scrambling to his desk, Reid greeted Morgan along the way. Catching the concerned look on Morgan's face, he returned it with a sincere smile telling the man all was well. Morgan relaxed for a moment until the younger man sat a little too hastily and winced. Reid was quickly reminded of this morning's "conversation" with Hotch, and Morgan didn't miss the flinch. It only took him a moment to understand what had probably happened. Though he felt sorry for the kid, he couldn't help but also feel a little bit of satisfaction that Reid had gotten what he deserved.

Reid settled in and started working on his reports. Slowly it occurred to him he probably needed to clear the air with Morgan too. Softly, and slightly embarrassed, he said, "I'm sorry about last night." When Morgan looked up from his own administrative duties, he continued, "I-I don't know what I was thinking . . . when I . . . umm, you know." Morgan nodded encouragingly, "It was reckless. . . and I'm sorry." It hadn't come out quite the way he'd wanted, but at least he'd said it. He hoped his friend wasn't too angry and would eventually forgive him.

"Reid, it's over, man. Forget about it." He received a small smile from the kid, then went on, one meaningful eyebrow raised in warning, " . . . but I meant what I said. If you pull anything like that again, I'll wring your neck."

Reid knew he meant it, but he smiled even wider as he nodded his understanding. It was nice knowing his big brother cared enough to threaten him with physical harm to protect him.

Emily returned just as the mail-room person emerged from Garcia's office to deliver their own mail. He dropped a couple of bills and a fitness magazine in Morgan's mail basket, a bright red envelope and a circular in Emily's, and Reid received a familiar blue envelope he knew was a letter from his mother. Everyone on the team had taken to receiving their personal mail at the office since they spent so much time out in the field. It was safer than leaving it in their individual home boxes for days at a time.

Bustling out of her office, Garcia seemed distinctly annoyed about something. Mumbling to herself, she didn't make any sense at all until she reached Morgan's desk. Here she stated quite clearly, "Why am I getting all these catalogs?" Her arms were full until she dumped them unceremoniously on his desk. Reid stood up to get a better look at the offending collection. They weren't at all what he'd expected.

Morgan picked up one of them and started thumbing through it as he answered, "What's the problem, Mama? You love shopping."

Still agitated, "Yes! Yes, I do. But why THESE catalogs? Do I look like I would be interested in something like this?"

Morgan had to admit he didn't think so.

"How did they find me?" Garcia continued as J.J. and Rossi approached to see what the commotion was about.

Reid was fairly certain he knew the answer to why she would suddenly be getting all these hunting and fishing catalogs, "Did you make any purchases recently that would resemble anything in these catalogs?"

Confused, Garcia thought about that, "About two months ago I bought a couple of sleeping bags to donate to the shelter, but why do I deserve to get all of these because of one act of kindness?"

She was right. One out-of-character purchase probably wasn't enough, "Did you buy anything else?"

Thinking about this, it suddenly occurred to her, "When I was in the store to buy the sleeping bags, there was this really cute duck whistle." Rossi looked amused by this, "It was kinda expensive so I didn't get it then, but I couldn't just NOT have it, so I went on-line and bought it the next day. You should see it. It's bright yellow and has the cutest quacky whistle." Again Rossi grinned.

Needing a bit more information to make his diagnosis, Reid asked, "And you made both of these purchases with a credit card?"

Garcia gave a wide-eyed nod.

Matter-of-factly he stated, "That's why you're getting all these catalogs. There are direct marketing companies that specialize in collecting and manipulating the information you give them by making purchases. Generally, they're able to sort out single buys, like if you only bought the sleeping bags, they would have decided you weren't the type of buyer these catalogs wanted. But you bought again a day later, so you started looking like what they wanted."

Garcia was shocked by this news, "So, what you're saying is they're profiling me?" Reid had never thought of it that way, but he nodded the affirmative. Garcia jokingly stated, "I hate profilers." With this, she gathered up her collection and dumped it all in the nearest recycling bin.

Rossi simply couldn't let it go at that, "I think what you bought was a duck call. Not a whistle."

Garcia gave him a deadpan look, "What's the difference?"

Rossi, not expecting to have to explain said, "Well, I suppose the difference is how it's used." Taking in the confused looks from the entire team, he pressed on, though now he regretted even bringing it up, "A call is used to lure in game. A whistle is a toy."

Trying her best to at least look interested, Garcia answered, "Huh, guess it's a whistle then. I'm not planning to take it hunting within my lifetime. It's too cute for that." Rossi knew when he was beat. He shook his head and wandered away leaving the younger members of his team to the discussion. Garcia turned to Reid now, changing the subject back without a second thought, "So, they get my information from my credit card purchases?"

Reid nodded his head, "Yes, that and from any queries you make to individual catalogs, or any big purchases like a house or car where you might have to take out a loan." Conveying new information to others always made him a little excited which made his speech speed up and his vocal inflections rise, "Oh! And if you move! Fill out a change-of-address card and they get that information too!" The cheese-eating grin he graced the group with made everyone smile and shake their heads at his unending stores of both knowledge and geekiness.

With a sly look, Garcia asked, "And you said they keep all this information in a big data base . . . which is connected to a computer." Without formality, she turned to leave.

Knowing she was going to try to erase her information, or possibly worse, from these data bases, Reid raised a finger to stop her, and hurriedly said, "It won't help." This stopped Garcia in her tracks. She wheeled around to face the younger man, and he finished with a shrug, "Make another purchase with a credit card and you'll go right back into the data base. If you think about it, what they're doing in most cases is ensuring you only get the catalogs you're interested in instead of a bunch of random catalogs you're not. It was just a fluke this time."

Garcia was not convinced. She would have to think of a way to get even with her new nemesis, but this reminded her she had another bit of business to take care of with her young friend, "I heard about your exploits in Texas my fine feathered federalie."

Reid didn't like the look on Garcia's face. She was the nicest, kindest person he knew, but she never held back when she had something to say. He gulped and waited for it.

She slowly advanced on him, "I expect you to come home to me safely. No matter what. Every time." She was directly under his nose now. He answered her with a wide-eyed, frightened nod. He couldn't see the rest of the team grinning around him, but he knew they were. Garcia finished with, "If I find out you put yourself in that kind of avoidable danger again, I'll personally pluck you, Precious." She held his eyes for only a moment, then flashed him a grin and flounced away to do whatever damage she could to the evil direct marketers.

Finally able to breathe again, Reid exhaled and looked around at the rest of the team. Morgan and Emily chuckled as they moved back to their paperwork. J.J. was smiling as well, but studying him to make sure he'd gotten the message and understood they all felt that way. Reid dropped his eyes feeling quite penitent, but again experiencing the warmth he felt knowing his family cared enough to yell at him like that.

XOXOXOXOXO

As 4:00 rolled around, Reid realized he hadn't checked in with Hotch all day. He went to fill his coffee cup and wandered up to the older man's office. He leaned nonchalantly on the door frame, mug in hand, and was waved in to sit in the guest chair. Hotch was on his office phone seeming irritated, though, as always, carefully controlled, by something he was hearing. Reid only caught half of the conversation, "I'm sure Agent Rossi can take care of . . . Yes, Ma'am . . . I understand . . . of course . . . we'll be there." Sighing, he carefully hung up the phone. Reid got the distinct impression he was being careful with the phone to keep himself from slamming it down. "I have to go out of town for a few days. Director Strauss is sending Rossi and me to Seattle to give a presentation at a law enforcement conference."

Reid nervously played with his hands, waiting to hear what his fate would be while Hotch was away on this unscheduled trip.

Hotch hadn't had time yet to figure this out, but he offered, "I suppose you could come with us . . ." Reid's head shot up to give his boss a hurt look. Hotch understood that taking the young man with him would be the equivalent of treating him like an untrustworthy child, but what else could he do? He wasn't about to leave him alone right now. One other idea occurred to him. He sighed and pressed on, "What would you think about staying with Morgan for a few days?"

Reid bit his lower lip and thought about his options. He could spend the weekend cooped up in a hotel with nothing to do, or he could spend the weekend being babysat by Morgan, who probably wouldn't want that responsibility anyway. He pleadingly looked at his boss and asked, "Can't I just stay by myself in my own apartment? It's just for a few days, right?" He didn't really think Hotch would go for it, but he had to try.

The young man was correct. His boss gave him a skeptical look and admonished, "Reid, you know I can't let you do that. I won't leave you alone until you beat this thing."

Reid noticed the return of the familiar moniker his boss used for him, but nodded his head in understanding, "I'd like to stay with Morgan then. If he doesn't mind."

Hotch nodded his head and picked up his phone. He dialed, waited, then said into the speaker, "Morgan, can you come into my office? Thank you."

They waited in silence for Morgan to arrive. Luckily, they didn't have to wait long. In less than a minute he was knocking lightly on the open door. He didn't wait to be invited, but easily ambled in and asked, "What's up?"

Hotch looked at Reid, who simply returned his gaze. He was too embarrassed to ask himself, so the older man turned to Morgan and said, "I just learned I have to go out of town this weekend." It was really all that needed to be said.

Morgan nodded his head saying with determination, "Kid, you're staying with me." Seeing the younger man's overly-grateful look, Morgan let him know he wasn't being inconvenienced by this, "It'll be fun."

Relieved, Hotch said, "Good, then it's settled. Rossi and I have to leave in a couple of hours, so you'll go home with Morgan tonight and I'll be back Sunday late afternoon. Here's a spare key to my apartment. Feel free to come and go if you need to." He handed the key to Reid and walked the two men to the door. As Reid exited, Hotch quietly said, "Morgan, can I talk to you for a minute?" It wasn't very subtle, but Reid knew the two "grown-ups" wanted to talk about him. He rolled his eyes and continued walking back to his desk.

"Morgan, keep an eye on him, huh?" At the grim look he received from the younger man, Hotch put a hand up to stop the rebuke, "I know. I know. You're always watching out for him, but he looks tired. I think he needs to take it easy this weekend. I'll leave it up to your judgment, but if he needs to rest you'll have to enforce it. Are you going to be okay with that?"

Morgan remembered hearing the kid sneeze a couple of times today, and realized Hotch was probably right, "No problem, Hotch. We'll rent some movies and take it real easy."

Satisfied, Hotch clapped Morgan on the shoulder, and sincerely said, "Thank you, Morgan. We both really appreciate this."

Walking toward the door, Morgan responded with, "It's no problem, Hotch. I'd do anything for the kid."

Back in the bullpen, Morgan walked out into the entrance hall to make a discreet phone call. He dialed his cell and waited. At the answer, he said, "Hey Pretty Lady . . . " He chuckled at the woman's response, "Yeah? Tell me more." He crooned into the phone. Listening to the response, he suddenly remembered why he was calling. He dropped the ladies-man act and seriously said, "Hey, uhh, listen. I'm going to have to take a rain check on our date tonight." Again he listened and chuckled, "Yeah, I know, but this was unavoidable. I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next weekend. Okay, I'll call you in a couple of days." He hung up the phone allowing himself a moment of regret, but quickly shook it off. The kid needed him and he wasn't about to let a lovely lady get in the way of being there for him.


	11. Chapter 11

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I get mani/pedis with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**An now, chapter 11 . . .**

XOXOXOXOXO

It was 5:00 pm. Rossi was ready to leave for Seattle, but Hotch had one last thing to take care of. He called Reid into his office and shut the door. Ushering the younger man to the couch, he took the guest chair so the large desk would not separate them. Intently scrutinizing him, Hotch started, "You haven't reported any cravings today."

Reid had been so busy, he hadn't even thought about it. He shook his head and shrugged saying, "I haven't notice any." At the skeptical look he received from his boss, he responded, "I swear, Hotch."

He looked innocent enough, but Hotch wondered how he could go from such intense cravings the day before to none at all today. Reid had been surrounded by friends, he'd had plenty of work, and a good scare last night. He was also looking more peaked as the day went on. Any one of these things, or perhaps the combination, could be keeping his mind off the drugs.

"Alright", the older man continued, "Our deal is still on while you're with Morgan. He'll take you to your meeting while I'm gone, and any cravings you feel, you will report to him. Also, I expect you to be within hearing range of each other at all times. Understood?"

Reid took a moment to consider everything. As he slowly nodded his head, Hotch asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"Does Morgan know about our deal?"

Hotch knew what he was really asking, "I haven't spoken with him yet, but he'll know only about going to the meetings, reporting any cravings and the need to stay in close proximity. I don't think he needs to know anything more, do you?"

Relived, Reid shook his head, "No, that's probably enough." He tried to smile.

"Anything else you're worried about?"

He was actually, but mentioning he wasn't feeling very well seemed like whining, so he shook his head and bravely said, "No, sir. I'll be fine." His smile was sincere this time.

Hotch returned the smile, saying, "I know you will." They stood and walked to the door together, "You can always call me if you need to."

Reid knew his boss was nervous about leaving him, but now he was embarrassing the younger man. Still, Reid smiled at the gesture, nodded his head and ducked out of his boss' office.

Hotch, scanning the bullpen, caught Morgan's eye and beckoned him to his office. Bounding up the stairs, Morgan passed Reid, "You about ready to head home, kid?"

Feeling slightly embarrassed knowing that the two older men were going to talk about, Reid stammered out, "Y-yeah. Whenever you are," and clambered back to his desk to wait.

Explaining the situation to Morgan didn't take Hotch long. The younger agent was perceptive enough to know some rules and plans had been put into place. He easily accepted the responsibility and headed out of the office with, "Stop worrying, Hotch. The kid's safe with me." Flashing his most disarming grin, Morgan strolled back to his desk.

Reid covertly studied Morgan as he returned. He wondered if his friend was still so willing to take him in now that he knew what all was involved. Morgan didn't act put out or upset at all, but Reid worried about being imposing. He really wished his sore throat and headache would go away. If he was sick, Morgan wouldn't find him much fun this weekend.

While considering this, Reid was zoning out; a sure sign of an on-coming fever. He roused himself to find Morgan studying him. He felt caught-in-the-act and sheepishly grinned at his coworker.

Morgan was standing over his own desk, jacket in hand, "Ready to go, kid?"

"Ummm, yeah." Reid jumped up a bit too eagerly and caught his foot on his chair. The offending chair shot out from under him and banged loudly into the desk behind him, while the young agent fell forward catching himself on his own desk.

Amused, Morgan chuckled, "Smooth, Reid. Let's go." And he headed for the elevator.

Flustered, Reid shoved his chair into place and jogged to catch up with his friend.

XOXOXOXOXO

After picking up Reid's things from Hotch's, Morgan dropped his friend off outside the old building where his N.A. meeting was held. These meetings would be the only times they would be separated during the weekend, so Morgan took the opportunity to fill his truck up with gas, drop off his laundry, and pick up dinner for them at a nearby Thai restaurant. Even as he was getting out of Morgan's truck, Reid had seemed lethargic and his eyes were glassy. If he was really coming down with something, the only thing Morgan could think of to speed up his healing was spicy food. His mom always said it was the best cure for a fever. He ordered salmon choo-chee and chicken mango curry for dinner, and coconut ice cream for dessert.

The hour-long meeting finished shortly before Morgan returned. Reid waited for him on the steps of the building trying not to seem nervous. He told himself he shouldn't worry so much about being recognized. Anyone he ran into here shouldn't be judgmental, and even if they were, he shouldn't care, but he couldn't seem to help it.

Reid could feel himself starting to zone out again. He'd had difficulty paying attention in the meeting, and now he felt so drained he simply sat down on the steps to wait. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his head up with his hands, looking very much like a lost little boy. Soon enough though, Morgan arrived. He pulled the truck to the curb directly in front of the steps, and noticed how pale the kid looked. Well, he was always pale, but he was nearly clear now. Reid climbed into the cab and buckled in, "Something smells good."

Morgan could hear the gravely sound of his voice and the beginnings of a stuffy nose, "I picked up Thai for dinner. How're you doing?" He left the question open in case the kid needed to talk about anything that happened in the meeting.

At first Reid tried to keep up his brave act. He nodded his head, about to say he was fine, but even that movement made his headache blaze. Instead, he sighed and admitted, "Not so good." He knew Morgan would feel imposed on now with a sick houseguest, "I'm sorry."

Morgan glanced over to see Reid's apologetic eyes and grinned. Only this kid would apologize for being sick, "I'm surprised it took you this long to say anything. You've looked like death warmed over all day."

Reid's brow wrinkled. Had he really been that obvious? He'd tried so hard to hide it.

As they pulled into Morgan's driveway the older man studied his friend's face. He was glassy eyed, and his hair was starting to mat down to his forehead. Reid should probably just go to bed, but it was only 7pm and he hadn't eaten yet. Morgan wanted to get some nutrition into the kid first if he could. He grabbed the food and Reid's duffel bag and headed for the front door. Reid dragged slowly behind him. Unlocking the door and clicking the light on, Morgan ushered Reid in, took his jacket and pointed him in the direction of the large, comfortable couch in the living room, "Get comfortable. I'll be right back with dinner."

Morgan hung up their jackets, dropped the duffel at the foot of the stairs and went to the kitchen to put the ice cream in the freezer and to find utensils. His dog, Clooney, waited impatiently to be fed, so he took care of that matter before he plated their own food and returned to the living room. He found Reid curled up on the couch, eyes closed. Morgan laid the food down on the coffee table and placed a gentle hand on the young man's forehead. Reid's eyes slowly opened. He looked up blurrily at his friend, waiting for the verdict. He had a fever, though not so high that Morgan was alarmed. Giving up on the idea of getting any food into Reid tonight, he said, "Come on, kid. Let's get you into bed." Morgan steadied him as he sat up, then helped him stand.

Carrying the duffel up the stairs, he led Reid to the guest room. The queen-sized bed was made up with several pillows, a couple of blankets, and a feather comforter folded up at the foot. Morgan dropped the bag on the bed, and said, "Home, sweat, home. Get ready for bed, I'll get a thermometer."

Alone in the bedroom, Reid wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. He felt dizzy and his throat was burning. Slowly peeling off his clothing, he rummaged around in his bag for his pajamas. Not finding them, he realized he'd forgotten to grab them at Hotch's place. Instead, he pulled on a soft pair of sweatpants and called it good. He climbed into bed shirtless and was nearly asleep when Morgan returned.

The older man's hands were full of medicinal wares. Reid looked up at him through half-closed eyes, "I thought you just went to get a thermometer."

"Yeah, and I thought you were getting ready for bed. Where's your shirt, youngster?"

"Left it at Hotch's." he replied weakly.

Morgan grunted at this and laid his medicine chest plunder down on the empty nightstand. He picked up the electronic thermometer, turned it on and waited for his friend to open his mouth. It only took a second to register the 101.2 degree temperature. Though not high enough to be alarming, he felt the kid needed to be bundled up a bit more for the night. "Hang on." He said, and quickly stepped out of the room. He returned moments later with a clean sweatshirt from his own closet. It would be entirely too large on Reid, but it would keep him warm. Tossing it on the bed, he said, "Put this on." Immediately seeing the raised eyebrows and wide-open eyes of the face the kid always used while trying to reason out of something, he halted it with a warning finger, saying, "None of that now. Do it."

Reid pouted, but pulled the shirt on anyway. He was too tired to fight.

Satisfied, Morgan continued, "Here's some spray that'll numb your throat if you want it." Reid used that while his friend continued to talk, "I have some pain relievers, but it would probably be best if you can manage not to take them so you can burn that fever off. And here's a bottle of water. If you need anything else, I'll be right downstairs for the next couple of hours."

Unable to stop himself, Reid yawned. Covering his mouth with the back of his hand he said, "Sorry. . . . and thank you." He laid down and shut his eyes. Morgan was fairly certain he was asleep already.

"No problem, kid. Sleep well." Walking out into the hall, Morgan left the door open just a crack and turned the bathroom light on across the hall. He went to the living room, clicked on the television and surfed around while eating his dinner. Finding an interesting game, he cracked open a beer, invited Clooney to sit by him on the couch, and settled in to watch.

It was nearly 11pm when Morgan started thinking about heading to bed himself. He straightened up the living room, clicked off the television and climbed the stairs. Stopping at Reid's door, he peaked in to make sure the young man was sleeping soundly. What Morgan found concerned him. He threw open the door and went to the young man thrashing around on the bed. Reid was sweating profusely now and he was clearly struggling with some sort of demons. Feeling the heat radiating off his friend's body, Morgan put a hand on Reid's shoulder, gently shaking him, "Hey kid. Wake up."

With a sharp gasp, Reid's eyes shot open. He looked wildly around the dark room, clearly unsure of his surroundings. Morgan reassured the young man, brushing the hair out of his eyes and saying, "Kid . . . kid, it's okay. You're safe. I'm here." Reid's wildly searching eyes flew to Morgan's face, still not fully understanding, but calming a bit. "It's me. Morgan. You're safe, kid." Reid's breathing started to slow, and he seemed to know where he was now.

Weakly, he said, "Morgan, I don't feel good." His eyes were shut again.

"I know you don't, kid." He reached over for the thermometer, saying, "Open your mouth, I want to get your temperature again."

Reid's mouth dropped open, but his eyes remained shut. Morgan placed the instrument under the young man's tongue and coaxed his mouth shut with a gentle hand under his chin. As quickly as before it registered, but this time much higher, "105.3. Okay kid, we need to get you into a bath. I'll be right back." Reid thought a warm bath sounded wonderful. He was freezing.

Morgan left the room, grabbed the Epsom salts out of the hall closet and started running a lukewarm bath. While that was running, he went back to his friend. He helped him sit up, handed him the uncapped bottle of water and three ibuprofen, "Swallow those, then let's get you in the tub." Reid took the pills, and let his friend help him stand up. He leaned heavily on Morgan walking to the bathroom, but let go as they entered, "I can handle this part on my own, I think."

Morgan gave him a dubious look, but nodded his head, "I'll be right outside if you need me." He stepped into the hall and closed the door. Within moments he heard Reid screech and almost ran back in before he heard, "Ahhh! It's cold!"

"It's not cold," Morgan yelled through the door, "It's just not hot. You need to get your temperature down. Now get in there." He listened intently for signs of compliance. When he heard the squeak of the knobs and the increase in water pressure, he warningly said, "Reid, don't you dare turn the temperature up."

"But it's cold," came the winey reply.

"I don't care. Turn that water back down and get in before I come in there and help you."

Behind the door, Reid gulped. He had no doubt that Morgan's threat was not empty. Sulkily, he returned the water to where it had been and stepped into the bath. He sat in the deep water and tried to relax. Once he was in, it wasn't all that bad. He laid his head against the wall and shut his eyes.

Five minutes later, an anxious Morgan knocked on the bathroom door and asked, "How're you doin' in there, kid?"

Reid roused himself from the twilight sleep he'd fallen into, "Mmokay" he called out.

"Reid, I need to take your temperature again."

To Morgan's surprise, Reid said, "It's okay, Morgan. You can come in."

Entering the bathroom, Morgan was relieved to find the shower curtain closed with only Reid's head showing. His color was better at least. Morgan popped the thermometer back into Reid's mouth, waited, then found the reading at 103. Better, but he could still stand another degree or two cooler. "Let's give it another five minutes. How are you feeling?"

Reid groggily nodded his head, "Tired, but feeling on the whole better."

Not wanting to hover, Morgan said, "I'll be back in five. Just relax until then." He went to the master bath to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. Five minutes later, Reid's temperature was down to 100.7. High enough to burn off whatever infection was plaguing him, but low enough not to cause brain damage, "Let's get you dried off and back into bed." He handed the young man a large towel, and went into the hallway to wait.

Reid stepped out of the tub, dried himself off and drained the water. He turned to put his clothes back on, then realized they had been replaced with a pile of clean sweats. When had Morgan done that? He must have really been out of it. Dry and dressed, he walked into the hall and found his friend waiting, "You didn't have to wait for me. I can make it into bed myself, you know." He was feeling a little crabby for some reason, but his words came out jokingly. Morgan wasn't fooled though. He chalked it up to the fever and the need for sleep, and simply ignored the words. Instead Morgan put a hand on his shoulder and guided the young man back to bed. Reid noticed the fresh sheets and looked at his friend, feeling guilty about his peevish attitude, "Thanks, Morgan."

Pulling the blankets back for Reid, Morgan gently chuckled, "You'd sweat through the last ones." Which reminded him, "Here, drink this." He handed Reid a glass with an orange liquid that didn't smell exactly like orange juice. Reid gave him a suspicious look, to which Morgan replied, "Drink. It has electrolytes. You're dehydrated enough as it is."

Reid gulped it down. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was. Handing the empty glass back to Morgan, he crawled under the covers and lay down. Morgan headed for the door with, "G'night, Reid. Try not to overheat again tonight, huh?" He smiled, then realized the kid would probably feel guilty if he did, so he finished with, "but if you do, you come get me. Got it?"

Reid looked up at his big brother, nodded his head and felt very safe and protected. Morgan closed the door, leaving it open just a crack. He did the same with his own door just across the hall.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

**Okay, I know. Not the best chapter, but considering I was at least as sick as Reid when I wrote it, I didn't think it came out that bad. The next chapter is turning into the one that simply won't end, so I'll definitely make up for this chapter next time.**

**Sam, the promised Clooney scene is in the next chapter too. :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**It's a sick day for Reid. Don't you just hate being sick on the weekend?**

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I work overtime with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**An now, chapter 12 . . .**

XOXOXOXOXOXO

The rest of the night went by quietly. Morgan awoke at 8:20 am with a start. The house was silent enough to worry him. He jumped out of bed, quickly dressed and opened the guest bedroom door to check on his houseguest. The young man was sleeping soundly with Clooney calmly playing sentinel on the floor beside him. "Good boy." He whispered to the dog, "Come on. Let's let him sleep a little longer." Clooney wagged his tale and followed his master out of the room. Though he had a dog door to access the back yard, Morgan let him out the sliding glass door, then followed the dog out onto the porch. He waited for Clooney to finish his business, threw the ball for him a couple of times, then the two of them walked inside together. Generally, Clooney would eagerly wait for his breakfast at this time, but today he bounded back up the stairs. Morgan chased after him afraid he was going to wake up Reid. He already knew he had the best dog in the world, but that was confirmed when Morgan found him sitting alertly, wagging his tale, just outside the still open door to Reid's room.

Patting the dog on the head, he heard Reid coughing. He peeked inside and found him trying to sit up. Morgan stepped inside and helped his friend prop himself up against the many pillows. Reid bashfully looked up at his friend, and through a stuffy nose said, "mornin'." He almost grinned at the funny sound of his voice.

Morgan replied, "Mornin'. How're you feeling?"

"Well, by troat doedn't hurt buch dis mornin', but I can't breade and by head hurts."

Grabbing the thermometer, Morgan said, "open up." He popped it under the kid's tongue with, "Mouth shut, please." Reid looked up at him with apprehensive eyes. He couldn't breathe at all if his mouth was shut. Morgan, hardly believing he needed to explain this, responded, "It'll only take a second. Take a breath and shut your mouth." Reid took his friend's advice. The thermometer registered 100.5. "Can you bare the headache? I don't want to give you any painkillers if we can keep your temperature up a little. Reid looked disappointed, but understood the reasoning. He nodded his head, and Morgan said, "Good. Are you hungry?"

Reid didn't have to think twice about that. He shook his head, no, a bit too emphatically and regretted the action as his headache worsened and his dizziness returned. He leaned his head back against the pillow behind him and rubbed his temples.

Morgan's brow knitted in concern, "You should probably sleep as much as you can today." Reid was all for that at the moment, and started to sink back down under the covers. Morgan stopped him with, "Hang on. I want to get some more liquids into you before you go back to sleep." He ran down to the kitchen, grabbed another bottle of water out of the fridge along with the orange juice. He poured a small glass of the juice and returned to Reid's room. Handing him the glass, he said, "Here. Drink this. I'll bring you more in an hour or two. In the meantime make sure you try to get as much of this water down as you can."

Exhausted, Reid snuggled back down under the covers and mumbled, "Tanks, Morgan."

Morgan retrieved another box of tissue from the hall closet, just in case, and left it beside the bed. He called his concerned furry companion out of the room, closed the door, and let the kid sleep for another couple of hours.

Hotch called at 11am. Without preamble, he said, "how's he doing?"

Morgan chuckled, "you sound like a worried parent. He's fine, but he is sick. He's sleeping right now."

As Morgan filled him in on the events of the night, Hotch started to feel more and more guilty for leaving. "I shouldn't have left."

Morgan thought that was ridiculous, "What? Hotch, he's fine. Just a little cold. By the time you get back, he'll be completely over it."

Hotch was also worried that he had burdened Morgan with something that was his responsibility, "Are you certain you're okay with this, Morgan? I could be back tonight."

"Hotch, will you leave it alone? He's fine. We're fine. Just take care of business there and we'll see you tomorrow night. I promise you, he'll be healthy enough to return to work Monday morning."

"Alright. It sounds like you have everything under control there." Changing the subject, Hotch continued, "The Seattle P.D. has an interesting case. Actually, they didn't start to pull it all together until this conference. Could be something the B.A.U. can help with. Rossi and I will get more details and pass them along to J.J. Wanted to give you the heads-up though."

Interested, despite himself, Morgan pressed for more details, "What's the case?"

"Young boys are going missing then turning up dead days later throughout the Northwest. They originally thought the cases were unrelated since they were so geographically spread out and they didn't see any real similarities between the children, but more evidence has been presented here that may connect them."

"What evidence is that?"

"Seems this is more wide-spread than they once thought, and all of the children have one hobby in common – coin collecting."

Morgan was unconvinced, "Lots of kids collect coins, Hotch."

"I know. I told you this is new evidence. We'll do more digging before we alert the team."

Clooney was laying at the base of the stairs. As Morgan listened to Hotch, he watched his dog's head pop up and his ears turn up. He tilted his head to the side and whined. He was definitely interested in something going on in Reid's room, but Morgan couldn't hear any noise coming from that direction at all. Clooney jumped to his feet, looked worriedly back at Morgan and began to dance around. Something was up. Then he heard a soft whimper coming from Reid's direction, followed by a frightened yell. He cut Hotch off with, "I'll have to call you back, Hotch!" and he clicked his phone shut.

Pocketing the phone, he bound up the staircase and into Reid's room. The young man was clearly still asleep while fighting off something big. He yelled out, "NO! Run, Morgan! I – AHHHHHHHH! NOOOOO!"

Before the next blood curdling scream could finish, Morgan had Reid by both shoulders, shaking him, "Wake up, kid! Reid! You're okay! Come on. Wake up!" Again Reid opened his eyes not quite aware of his surroundings, but this time he recognized Morgan immediately. He turned wide, frightened eyes on his friend and finally breathed. "You're okay!" Reid gasped in amazement.

"Yeah. I'm fine, kid. And so are you." Morgan brushed a bit of hair out of Reid's eyes trying to gage his temperature. He handed the young man the half-finished bottle of water and motioned for him to drink.

Reid gulped at the water until he finished it off. Morgan asked, "Do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

Still shaken by the intensely vivid dream, Reid quickly blew his nose, dried his eyes, then wheezed out, "bears. It was bears. They were following us for a long time, and we were trying to get out of their way, but then with no provocation they came at us from all directions. There was no escape. They went after you first, and there was nothing I could do about it." He almost started crying remembering how frightened he had been, then remembered he was talking about a dream. He felt a little foolish, but continued, "Then this other really huge bear started attacking me. I tried to run, but it was too fast. He knocked me down and started tearing at my chest. He was about to rip my head off, wh-when I woke up."

Morgan waved the thermometer in front of Reid's face. Calmer now, the young man obediently opened his mouth to accept it. Morgan said, "Wow, kid. You really know how to pick your nightmares." The device beeped, and Morgan was surprised to find it read only 99.8 degrees. "Well, it wasn't the fever that caused that dream. You're almost back to normal"

Reid shook his head, "I've had that one before actually. Different contexts, different bears, but always bears hunting me."

Morgan filed this one away for future reference and changed the subject, "You feel like getting out of this room for a while?"

Despite his runny nose, Reid was actually feeling quite a bit better. He almost grinned, "Yeah, I am."

"Good, let's get you downstairs. You want to watch a movie or something?"

Reid rarely indulged in movies, but the thought of putting the effort into reading right now was enough to exhaust him again, "That sounds good, yeah."

Morgan helped him to stand up, handed him a box of tissue, then led him out into the hallway where a happy Clooney greeted them. Reid immediately shied away from the dog. From past experience, he and dogs generally didn't get along well. Morgan caught the younger man's flinch and said, "Clooney's been keeping a close watch over you, kid."

Not taking his meaning, Reid moved further behind Morgan and responded skeptically, "I'm sure he has."

"Nah, man. I mean he's been watching out for you. He knows when something's wrong before I do." He gave the dog an affectionate scratch behind one ear.

Still not certain this could be true, Reid's response sounded a bit like a scared but curious child's, "Really?" He was still holding his hands at chest level and shying away.

Sincerely, Morgan said, "Really. Here, let him sniff your hand." Reid wasn't at all sure that was a good idea. Losing patience, Morgan grabbed his wrist and offered the attached hand to the dog. Reid stood absolutely still and waited for the inevitable nip. What he got was a cold, wet nuzzle and a gentle lick. A nervous laugh erupted from Reid's chest. Morgan let go of his wrist, but Reid didn't move away. Instead he reached up to pat the dog's head and said, "Good boy." He was grinning from ear to ear.

Morgan sauntered down the steps mumbling, "There's a first time for everything."

Reid and Clooney followed, headed for the couch. Morgan said, "I have a bunch of movies on the shelf. If you don't find anything there, we can run out and rent something."

Glancing at the extensive collection, Reid had no doubt he could find something to keep his interest. Morgan disappeared into the kitchen while Reid scanned the shelf. His eye was inexplicably drawn to a bright pink box. He pulled the movie off the shelf, crinkled his nose in distaste, and yelled toward the kitchen, "What's this?"

Morgan was clearly distracted, "I don't care. Whatever you want to watch. Just throw it in the machine and turn on the T.V. I'm making lunch. Go ahead and start without me."

His curiosity piqued, Reid threw in the odd pink movie and pushed play. It started out slowly with some lady singing in a dark nightclub. He was fairly certain he wouldn't like it, so he hit fast forward just to see what else was in this movie. When he hit play again, he found what appeared to be an old man wearing women's clothing. He/she sardonically said, "That's just what this country needs: A cock in a frock on a rock." Reid hurriedly hit stop, took the movie out and replaced it on the shelf continuing to look for something less frightening. He considered watching _Nightmare on Elm Street_, but then he saw theentire _Star Wars_ collection and decided that would be an excellent way to kill the afternoon. May as well start with Episode I. He curled up on the couch, invited Clooney to join him, which he did, and drifted into a galaxy far, far away.

He was well into the movie when Morgan finally joined him carrying a large tray laden down with bowls of soup, glasses of juice, crackers and a sandwich. All this he laid in front of Reid who didn't move. He wasn't hungry, and the movie had all of his attention. Standing between the young man and the television, Morgan said, "Time for lunch."

Comfortable where he was on the couch, Reid felt a bit peevish about being asked to move. And why wouldn't Morgan get out of his way? Didn't he know this was the best part of the movie? He looked up at the older man without moving his head saying through his still blocked nose, "Mmnot hungry."

"You haven't eaten anything since noon yesterday, youngster. I don't care if you're not hungry. You need to eat something."

The resulting whine would do any four-year-old proud, "Moorrrgaaannn, I'm siiiick."

Morgan's eyebrows shot up, then his eyes dangerously narrowed. Reid didn't need to hear anything more from the man to know Morgan wasn't going to put up with his behavior, sick or not. He sat up as quickly as he could, disturbing the sleeping dog next to him. Morgan merely looked at the dog and pointed to the floor. Clooney immediately climbed off the couch and sat, docile, at his master's side. Morgan handed a bowl of soup and a spoon to the kid and waited for him to take a bite.

Reid stared at it, looked up at Morgan, again studied the soup and asked, "What is it?"

Trying not to lose patience, Morgan calmly said, "It's homemade chicken broth and vegetables. Do you think it would take me that long to heat up a can of soup?"

Still not sure he wanted to eat this, Reid continued his investigation, "I mean, what's in it?"

"I just told you. Chicken broth and veges. Now eat!"

"But, what kind . . . "

"Reid, if you don't take a bite of that soup this instant, I _will_ help you."

The young man looked pensively up at his friend, decided he would probably do it, and sulkily filled his spoon with as much broth and as few vegetables as possible. He sipped at the hot broth and decided it would probably taste okay – if he could taste anything at all. "Mmm . . . it's good. Thanks, Morgan." Really, he just wanted to relax and watch the movie, but he had to convince his friend he would eat first.

Morgan wasn't buying it, "You need to eat those veges too. Understand me?"

Reid wasn't about to put these weird looking things in his mouth. Who ever heard of putting green stuff in soup? He pulled a face and made his query more specific this time, "What's the green stuff?"

Morgan picked up his own bowl, settled himself in the chair next to Reid, took a large bite and said, "It's spinach. Eat!"

Without thinking, Reid made a face like he'd just seen the most disgustingly mauled victim the B.A.U. ever encountered and said, "Ewwwwwww! Gross! Really?" When he tore his eyes away from the offending potage and looked up at Morgan, the icy stare he received told him he'd definitely stepped over the line. Wide eyed, he stammered out, "I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll eat . . . " He turned his full attention back to the bowl and without hesitating, started shoveling vegetables and all into his mouth as quickly as he could.

Morgan did his best not to laugh at this, "Slow down, kid. Eat it, don't choke yourself on it."

"Sorry." Reid mumbled and immediately slowed down. He couldn't taste anything, but he noticed his mouth was burning, and not from the heat of the soup. Soon his nose was running uncontrollably. Nosily, he cleared his sinuses and found he was able to breathe almost clearly for the first time today. "What did you put in this stuff?" it was clear he didn't mean the vegetables this time.

Between mouthfuls of his own soup, Morgan answered, "That's the Cayenne you're feeling. Good, huh?"

Reid wasn't normally one for spicy foods, but he had to admit the result was better than not being able to breathe. He finished his soup, and felt truly relaxed for the first time that day. While Morgan continued to eat, Reid laid back down on the couch. He must've fallen asleep because the next thing he knew Morgan was actually starting up the third _Star Wars_ movie.

Reid rubbed his eyes and sat up. He blew his nose and asked, "How long have I been asleep?"

Morgan answered, "three hours. Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

This wasn't news to Reid. He'd hoped he'd grown out of the habit, but apparently he hadn't. "What did I say?" he cringed hoping it wouldn't be anything embarrassing.

"You mostly just mumbled a lot of numbers. I think you were doing physics problems."

Relieved, Reid said, "Is that is?"

"No, you were also calling for someone. The name 'Nick' sound familiar?"

Reid softly groaned and squirmed a bit, "Yeah," he grudgingly admitted, "Nick is short for Nicola." At Morgan's questioning look, he clarified, "Nicola Tesla. The most important scientist and inventor of the modern age? The man who shed light over the face of the Earth?" Morgan continued to stare at him, "Anyway, I named my teddy bear Nicola – Nick – after him when I was four."

Morgan spluttered out a surprised laugh, "You named your teddy bear after a scientist?"

"Yeah. What did you call your teddy bear?"

The older man stopped laughing at the question. He didn't want to admit he even had a teddy bear, but he really didn't want to admit to his decidedly unimaginative name. He mumbled out, "Teddy."

Reid laughed. Then succumbed to a coughing fit.

The rest of the evening passed quietly. They watched Episodes I through III without Reid's temperature fluctuating much. Morgan even managed to get another bowl of soup into his friend. By 8pm though Reid was looking worn out again. With glassy eyes he watched the end of Episode IV and visibly fought falling asleep. As the credits rolled, Morgan clicked off the DVD player and announced, "Time for bed, kid."

Roused from a near sleep, Reid looked at his watch, confused, "but it's only 8:22."

Morgan could hear the irritableness creeping into Reid's voice. Raising an eyebrow, he looked at his friend and stated, "I know what time it is, and you need to go to bed."

"I slept all morning, and I've just been sitting on the couch the rest of the day. I'm not tired."

Not wanting to escalate the moodiness edging its way in, Morgan instead tried, "Okay, I'll make us some tea, and then you'll go to bed." He hopped up and dashed into the kitchen before his friend could protest the decision.

While Morgan was gone, Reid ejected Episode IV and, throwing caution to the wind, started up Episode V. As soon as the familiar music started playing, he heard from the kitchen, "That better not be the next movie!" Reid pretended not to hear and turned the volume up.

A few minutes later, two mugs of chamomile tea in hand, Morgan stepped in front of Reid, waited for him to make eye contact, and said in a low, dangerous voice, "Turn it off, youngster. We're not doin' this right now."

Reid was feeling extremely put upon. He didn't like being treated like a child, or being told when to go to bed, but even he couldn't believe it when he maintained eye contact and responded, "I'm not tired, and I'm not going to bed." Unmoved, Morgan simply held his eye. Reid's confident affect crumbled as he nervously lowered his eyes to the mug of tea and bit his lip.

Calmly, Morgan pressed the mug into Reid's hand, took the remote out of the other and clicked the television off, "Want to tell me what that was about?"

"I – I just don't want to go to bed right now. It's too early." He turned pleading eyes up to his friend, "Please. Just one more episode?"

Reid's glassy eyes and irritable attitude were all the evidence Morgan required to know he needed to get some real rest, "Sorry kid. We'll watch it tomorrow. Drink your tea. It'll help you sleep."

Without thinking, Reid clapped the mug down onto the coffee table and responded a bit too loudly, "No!" and sat back on the couch, arms tightly folded, in classic pouting position, "I don't want the tea, I don't want to go to bed, and you can't make me!"

Morgan would have laughed at this behavior out of Reid if he wasn't so sick. The older man recognized it was the fever making his friend grouchy, but he still wasn't going to put up with it. Sighing, Morgan reached down, grabbed Reid's ear and gently pulled. "Come with me, please," he calmly requested.

Immediately, Reid's arms unfolded. He had seen this technique used on children in old television shows, but he'd never thought it was actually effective. He wondered why Morgan bothered to say 'please'. The only way to avoid the pain was to do as he was told. As Morgan walked toward Reid's bedroom, the young man's ear firmly viced between his fingers, Reid protested his treatment, "Ow. Owww. Owww! Morgan! Come on, man! Oww! That's not fair. Okay. Okay. I'll go to bed, just let go."

Finally in the bedroom, Morgan released the appendage. Reid rubbed his ear and looked at his friend with shock loosely veiled as resentment. Again, Morgan was unmoved, "bed. Now."

Reid crawled into bed and rolled onto his side, facing away from Morgan. He wasn't about to do anything else to anger Morgan tonight, but he was still upset at being made to go to bed.

Morgan let the slight go. Things would look brighter in the morning, "g'night, kid." He walked out leaving the door open a crack.

XOXOXOXOXO

Twenty minutes later, Morgan's phone rang. It was Hotch. He cringed realizing he'd forgotten to call his boss back, "Hey Hotch."

"Everything okay, Morgan?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine, Hotch. Reid's in bed or I'd let you talk with him.

"He's in bed? So early?"

"His fever started rising and he was getting cranky, so yeah, he's in bed."

The frustration in Morgan's voice was well hidden, but Hotch knew his agent too well not to notice, "What happened?"

Morgan had no intention of ratting Reid out over something as minor as a fever-induced tantrum. He responded, "Nothing, Hotch. I took care of it. He's asleep now and that's what's important." A change of subject was in order or the older man would continue to press, "Any new evidence in that child abduction case?"

Hotch knew the conversation was being rerouted to distract him, but if Morgan had everything under control at home, he didn't mind. "No new evidence, but a few more connections being made. The local police have invited us in, but it wouldn't matter. This case crosses state lines. It's become a Federal investigation now."

"Crosses state lines? Hotch, you know how unusual that is. Are you sure all these cases are related?"

"Almost certain. I've sent the information over to J.J. She'll text you for a briefing tomorrow. If I'm reading this right we may not have a lot of time before he strikes again. I'd like to get the team out here as soon as possible. Do you think Reid will be up for it?"

With the kid's temperature rising again, Morgan wasn't so certain, but he said, "Maybe. We'll know more in the morning. One thing's for sure, he won't have as much energy as usual."

"I'm assuming you didn't take him to an N.A. meeting today then."

"It wouldn't have done any good. He was too weak to do much of anything."

"That's fine. I'll call again in the morning to check on his progress. If he's still too ill to join the team, we may have to ask Garcia to stay with him for a few days."

Morgan grinned, "Oh, he'll love that. Alright, Hotch, we'll touch base in the morning." He clicked the phone shut and decided he was hungry. Soup may be enough to fill up a skinny, sick kid, but he needed something more. He decided to finish off the last of the Thai since it sounded like he'd be gone for a few days after this. Afterward, he went out back to throw the ball for Clooney and enjoy the cool evening.

By 10:00 he was ready for bed. He looked around for his furry companion, but he was nowhere to be found. Peeking into Reid's room, he found his dog lying at the foot of the bed wagging his tail. Quietly, Morgan stepped into the room, laid a light hand on the kid's forehead without waking him, and was surprised at how cool he was. He gave Clooney a pat on the head and left the two of them to sleep.

It wasn't long before Morgan too was fast asleep in his own bed.

XOXOXOXOXO

**So the question remains – What was that weird pink movie in Morgan's collection? Be the first to tell me and win! Win what, you ask? Why, the gratification of knowing you're faster, smarter and possibly even better looking than everyone else. Mind you, I'll only accept the entire title as a valid answer.**

**Bonus question – Where did I get the idea for Reid's teddy bear? **

**Hope you enjoyed. Please R&R.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I love Criminal Minds, I live Criminal Minds, I go trick-or-treating with Criminal Minds, but sadly, I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**And finally, chapter 13 . . .**

**XOXOXOXO**

7:30 Sunday morning Morgan and Reid both awoke to their cell phones beeping. The message on both was the same, "We have a case. Briefing at 10 on the jet."

Morgan groaned, "J.J., can't it wait a few more hours?" Sighing, he rolled out of bed, dressed and realized Reid had slept through the night. That was a good sign. He crossed the hall and tapped on the kid's door.

"Come in."

Morgan walked in to find Reid wide awake, sitting up in bed reading. Clooney was draped across his legs relishing the attention while Reid absentmindedly scratched behind his ears. "How're you feelin', kid?"

"A lot better, thanks." Though his voice was gravelly, he looked much improved, Morgan thought. Still, he wasn't taking any chances. He reached for the thermometer, but Reid waylaid him.

"I've already taken it. 98.3 actually." He grinned up at the older man, then surrendered to a deep chest coughing fit. Morgan thought it sounded horrible, but if the fever was gone, he had fought off the infection at least. Reid put down his book and looked up at Morgan, stating simply, "I'm hungry."

That was the best sign yet, "why don't you get cleaned up and get dressed while I make us some breakfast?"

Reid thought a shower sounded like a brilliant idea. He nodded his agreement, and as Morgan turned to go, Reid hurriedly said, "I'm sorry I was such a brat last night."

Morgan turned back to face the young man, "that was a blue-ribbon outburst, but I've dealt with worse. Don't worry about it, kid." He flashed him a smile and finished with, "Hurry up. Breakfast in 15 minutes."

As Reid got ready for the day, Morgan pulled out his blender. He threw in bananas, strawberries, milk, plain yogurt and a few scoops of chocolate protein powder. Throwing the blender into high, he let it run as he grabbed 2 whole wheat bread slices and threw them into the toaster. He clicked the blender off and waited for the toast to finish. When they popped up, he covered each slice with chunky almond butter and topped them off with a little honey.

Sounding like he was hacking up a lung, Reid strolled into the kitchen looking more refreshed than that cough would make him seem. Morgan handed him a piece of toast on a plate and a tall glass of the fruit drink. Reid didn't think this looked much like a breakfast, but he couldn't really classify the odd combination of foods, so he decided this time of day was as good as any to eat it. Uncertain where the appropriate eating location was, he looked at Morgan who directed him back to the living room. He had a dining room table, but it seemed a little too formal. Besides, he normally just ate in front of the television anyway.

Morgan clicked on the television and they watched Episode V while they ate. While they were still enjoying breakfast, Hotch called Morgan's cell, "Morgan. How is he?"

"Hey Hotch," he replied, more to let Reid know who he was talking to. Reid turned his attention toward the phone call. "His fever's gone, but he has a nasty cough."

Reid pulled a face at being talked about. It suddenly occurred to him that Hotch might pull him from this new case if he was sick. If he did that, he'd have to stay with – Garcia! He didn't feel that bad, and a cough wouldn't get in his way. He quietly yet emphatically whispered to Morgan, "I'm fine!"

In his ear Hotch asked Morgan, "What do you think? Should he work this case?"

Morgan looked skeptically at Reid, but he replied to their boss, "He'll need to take it kinda easy, but I think he'll be okay. Getting out might do him some good."

Hotch thought Morgan might be tempted to stretch the truth if Reid was sitting there pressuring him, "Are you certain?"

"Uh, yeah. He'll be fine."

Morgan was generally more self-assured, so Hotch was positive now that Reid was sitting right there, "Put him on the phone, please."

Morgan handed the cell to Reid. Putting the receiver to his ear, the young man tried to sound as chipper as possible, "Hi Hotch."

Hotch's tone held a stern warning, "Spencer, I know you don't want to stay home for this case, but I don't need a sick agent in the field."

Pleading generally got him what he wanted, so the young agent went directly to that, "Please, Hotch. I feel fine. I can do my job. I swear."

Against his better judgment, Hotch gave in. Since he was alone, he allowed himself a rare eye roll. How could he expect Morgan to stand up to this kid if he couldn't do it himself? "You can join the team – if you get the N.A. meeting list to Morgan, and if you promise to take it easy while you're here. If I decide you need to take a break, I don't want any argument from you. Am I understood?"

Eagerly, Reid responded, "Yes, sir. Absolutely! Thank you, Hotch."

"Oh, and Spencer, Morgan wouldn't tell me what happened between you two last night, but we will talk about it later."

Reid gulped, "N-nothing happened, Hotch. I . . ." he knew he couldn't talk himself out of this one. "Yes, sir." He dejectedly handed the phone back to a perplexed Morgan.

Back on the phone with his boss, Morgan listened to his instructions, "It's cold and wet out here, so make sure he packs warmly. He needs to get that N.A. list to you before you leave for the airport. It's a long flight, so I want him to rest as much as possible. Get him to take a nap if you can."

"Okay, okay. Hotch, I've got it under control."

Realizing he was acting like a mother hen, Hotch relented, "We'll see you late this afternoon then. Thanks, Morgan."

Both men hung up. Morgan said, "Well, you got your way, kid. Hope you don't regret it."

Reid was still thinking about the last thing Hotch had said to him, "Yeah, me too, man. Me too."

It was almost 9am. They would have to get a move on if they were going to get a go-bag packed for Reid before their meeting with J.J. Reid cleaned up the kitchen, and then went to the computer to find N.A. meetings in the Seattle area while Morgan took a quick shower and changed. The older man had his own go-bag in hand and was ready to depart in less than 20 minutes. He gave Clooney a goodbye pet and grinned as Reid did the same. He looked meaningfully at the younger man who simply handed him the printout of the meetings. Morgan briefly scanned the document. Satisfied, they walked out the front door.

On the short ride to his apartment, Reid queried, "Did Hotch tell you anything about this case?"

"Yeah, kid. He did. There's been a bunch of child abductions in the Pacific Northwest. They weren't able to put all the pieces together until recently because the incidences have been so spread out?"

This Piqued the young agent's attention, "Spread out? How far?"

The kid had picked up on the same thing Morgan had. He raised an eyebrow and answered, "Across state lines."

Going into college lecture mode, Reid raised one finger and began, "In cases of abduction an unsub is highly unlikely to work such a large area. Normally, they'll keep to a comfort zone with a radius of 50 miles or less depending on their access to transportation, and the ratio of viable candidates for abduction in that area."

Morgan knew the facts. He'd heard them time and again, "I know, I know. That's what I told Hotch, but he still believes there's a connection."

Tentatively, the younger man asked, "What's the unsub doing to the kids he's abducting?"

Morgan noticed the change in his tone and looked at his passenger concernedly before he answered, "I don't have all the details, but I know he's killing them, Reid." He watched the kid as the news sunk in.

Reid was shaken knowing he would again be working on a case involving children – who were being murdered. He had wanted so badly not to be excluded from this case, but he wasn't so certain now. The perfect excuse was already in place. Joining the team wasn't mandatory for him right now. But how would that look? What if the team thought he couldn't do his job? And there were going to be other cases like this. Was he going to make an excuse every time? No, he needed to face this. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Morgan concentrating far too much on him considering he was driving. He cleared his throat, sat up a little straighter, and pretended to be thinking through relevant statistics that might be related to this case.

Next to him Morgan watched the varied emotions play across his friend's face. He saw the brave mask put in place as well. Morgan thought about suggesting he stay home for this one, but the kid needed to believe in himself again. If it took working a case like this, then the older agent was willing to let him try.

As they approached Reid's apartment, Morgan remembered his clothes were still at the laundry. He would need to pick those up before they left. Glancing at his watch, he realized they wouldn't have time to do that, and pack Reid's go-bag, and still make it to the jet on time. He grabbed his phone to call J.J. and tell her they'd be a few minutes late.

As the two men climbed out of the cab of Morgan's truck, Reid listened to the conversation. He again felt like he was imposing on Morgan. There was no reason they couldn't do both things at once. When the older man hung up the phone, Reid said, "You know, I can pack myself. If you run to get your laundry now, you'll probably be back before I'm even finished. It'll take you, what? Fifteen minutes?"

"Uh-uh. Hotch would have my head if I left you alone even that long. If we're a few minutes late, it won't be a problem. Come on, kid. Let's get a move on."

Feeling mildly ashamed that his friend couldn't trust him enough to be alone for even a few minutes, he led the way into his building. He was also feeling something else. Something deep in his gut. He wasn't sure he wanted to explore that feeling right now, but it was making him uneasy. Reid tried to push it away by concentrating on his packing. Morgan was pulling heavy sweaters out of his closet and throwing them at him. The young man obediently folded them and put them in his bag. When Morgan finished, he had just enough room for a couple pairs of slacks and the essentials. He was still feeling uneasy and distracted as he picked up his bag to go.

Morgan looked at him incredulously, "forget something, kid?

Reid looked at his friend, dumbfounded.

"Your weapon, kid. Where's your gun?"

Oh right! He mentally slapped his forehead, dropped the bag and went to his dresser where the firearm waited for him. He checked that it was loaded and the safety was on before attaching it to his side.

Ready to go, they were back in the truck and heading for the cleaners. Reid sat quietly, trying hard not to think about what, or who, the case involved. Morgan worriedly glanced at him, but let the kid alone for now. They would have time to talk on the jet.

Reid knew this part of town. He knew it quite well actually. The truck turned onto the street Morgan was looking for and slowed. It was filled with people. Reid had forgotten there was a large farmer's market here almost every Sunday morning. Finding parking would be nearly impossible. They passed the cleaners, both men scanning the street for a spot. Then it occurred to Reid. Pointing at the next right turn, he said, "There. Turn there. I know where there's a space."

Morgan didn't know how Reid knew about a parking spot before they were even on that street, but he turned anyway.

Reid pointed excitedly to a wide-open spot just around the corner from the laundry. Astonished, Morgan pulled up to it. Then he read the sign, "Loading and unloading only. Reid, we can't park here."

"Why not? I can stay with the truck so it won't get ticketed." Morgan was about to protest leaving him alone, but Reid was faster, "Look, it'll only take you five minutes to get your laundry. What could I do in five minutes?"

Sighing, Morgan relented. They weren't likely to find another spot anywhere close, "Okay, but you stay in this truck. And lock the doors. You hear me?"

His heart beginning to race, Reid silently nodded his head as Morgan jumped out of the cab. He turned to watch his friend disappear around the corner, then hurriedly jumped out of the cab himself. He dashed across the street to the bar he knew so well, jogged to the back and found the person he was looking for. Through a wheezing, coughing fit, he tossed money at the man and anxiously said, "dilauded." He was practically dancing in place waiting for the man to get a move on. Without a word, the man handed him a vile of clear liquid. Reid guiltily palmed it, turned and raced back out the door to the waiting pick-up. Outside the vehicle he succumbed to yet another coughing fit. Finally managing to clear his lungs, he hopped back into the cab, locked both doors and tried to calm his breathing.

He didn't have much time. Less than a minute later Morgan came around the corner, pile of clothing in hand. Reid unlocked the door for him. Morgan placed his items in the back seat, climbed into the cab and they were on their way to the jet.

The End

**XOXOXOXO**

**Hope you enjoyed! Please read and review. **

**XOXOXOXO**

**Okay, psych! Not really the end, but the next chapter will be chapter one under a new title – haven't decided what that title will be yet though. Since this story is moving into of an episode-type, I thought it was fitting.**


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